Once upon a nightmere
by emberrox42
Summary: It never should have happened. I never expected it to. I was supposed to be invincible, on top of the world! How could they take my dad from me? How do they expect me to just 'fit in' in someone else's home?
1. Once Upon a Crime

**Hey everybody. Just to let you know, if this story looks familiar, it's because it's based loosely on xxoraclexx's Batgirl: Genesis. I got permission for it (Thanks xxoraclexx! I owe you!), so I hope you enjoy it!**

**Ember**

Barbra let out a bloodcurdling scream as she viewed the scene before her. The pungent metallic odor of blood filled the air. Her stomach reeled, despite the fact that she ought to be used to the smell of blood by now. This was different, though. This wasn't her, this wasn't Batman or Robin, and it wasn't some nameless crook.

It was her father, lying lifeless and limp, and there was way more blood than she was used to. This wasn't just some cap in the shoulder. She dared not look at her father, instead making her way to the phone.

"GCPD, what's the nature of your emergency?" A familiar greasy voice asked.

"Bullock? Is that you? It's Barbra. You've got to get over here now, its dad, he's been shot, please help!" She sobbed, holding her father's broken glasses in one hand. "We're at home. What do I do?" She asked, rolling up her sleeves.

"Do you know CPR Barbra? Take his pulse and watch his breathing. I've got a dispatch team on it right away. Stay on the line with me Barbra, recite what you're doing." Bullock ordered and for once she felt comforted by the reckless detective.

**(a/n: please do not attempt CPR if you are not registered and do not have a license. Licenses can be obtained through the Red Cross or through the AHA, after a training course. Remember, you are liable to the damage done if you make a mistake.)**

"The scene is safe." She declared into the phone, checking to make sure there was nothing around that could hurt her also. She brushed some glass from her father's glasses away from him, and then knelt down at his side. She took his pulse, keeping time on her watch. "No pulse." She said aloud. She cradled the phone between her neck and her ear, placing a hand in front of his mouth to detect breathing. "He's not breathing." she whispered.

"Tap and shout Barbara." Bullock reminded her.

"Yeah, I know." She replied. Cradling the phone gave her both hands free, so she tapped her father on the shoulder, shouting "Dad, are you ok? Can you hear me? Dad, do you need help? Dad?" She closed her eyes so that she wouldn't have to view the gruesome scene before her. "No response. Beginning chest compressions." She declared.

"Do you have a mask?" Bullock asked.

"Yes" She replied." I have Dad's first aid kit right here." She placed her thumb at the base of her father's sternum, finding the last bone in his ribs, than twisted her thumb the other direction, so that she was one hand's length above her starting point. "There is no AED though." She added. "And I don't have anyone to send for one." She laced her fingers together so that her right palm was flat against her father's chest, and her left hand lay right on top, giving her leverage. "One… two… three… four-" She counted off the number of times she forced her father's heart to beat.

"Keep it up Barbra." Bullock ordered. "Dispatch is on its way. Just hang in there."

"- twenty nine… thirty." She let go of her father, placing a breathing mask over his mouth, tilting his head back as far as it would go, pinching shut his nose, than breathing two deep breaths into the plastic protector.

"Breath, breath." She declared into the phone. "Chest compressions. One…two…three…four…" After five minutes of rescue breathing and chest compressions, she took his pulse again, checked his breathing again, and continued. By this time, she was soaked to her elbows in her father's blood.

"Bullock!" She gasped after twenty minutes. "When are the paramedics going to get here? My arms have turned to pudding!"

"Just keep going kid. A five minute call takes about twenty to thirty minutes to answer. The EMS workers aren't Harry Potter you know. They can't apporate. They're doing the best they can. Just you keep it up."

Just when she thought she was about to collapse with exhaustion, a voice came from overhead.

"Ok Barbra, on the count of three I want you to let go." When did the paramedics get into her house? Why didn't she notice?

"One… two…three." she did as he said, watching as he continued compressions and wheeled her father away on a gurney. Detective Montoya came to her side as Barbra stood up. Barbra stared at the door her father had just disappeared through, blood dripping from her fingertips.

"Will he be alright Detective Montoya?" Barbra asked, leaning slightly on the older woman. Montoya wrapped her arms around the young girl.

"I don't know Barbra. I just don't know."


	2. Once Upon a Gotham

**Hey, isn't it weird that I have the next chapter up so fast? If you know me, than you know it is! Well, I wrote a lot of this before I started posting, so expect the first three or four chapters to be up pretty fast.**

** Ember**

**Disclaimer: Using the process of logical elimination, it is clear to see that I do not own the rights to these characters-if I did, I would obviously not be creating stories about them that I would be putting up for free, instead preferring to write stories that I would put into comics to sell, which is to say that I would attempt to make money form the copyright if I possessed it, meaning that if I owned these characters, which I do not, I would not be here, and moreover, I would be in a mansion creating stories which I would attempt to get you to purchase. In short, gimme money. That's what I want.**

It felt uncomfortable for Barbra to be worrying so much about her dress. She was attending her own father's funeral, and she felt that she needn't care what she wore. The small sixteen-year-old used to like wearing red dresses. She couldn't do it anymore. Red reminded her too much of blood.

It seemed like putting on a black dress and making some speech in a graveyard made it final, and Barbra didn't want that. She wanted doubt. She wanted to be one of those people who didn't know if their father was dead or alive, because at least that way there was a little hope. She hated the stupid little black strapless dress, and she hated the elbow-length black gloves, and she hated her black hair ribbon, and she hated her black heels. She brushed her bangs to the side so that they only covered one eye, and she sulked. Barbra decided that she would wear black everyday for the rest of her life until she could forgive herself for letting her father die.

Because it was all her fault. She was Batgirl for heaven's sake! If she had caught that man before, on her patrols, than he wouldn't have murdered her father. If she had gotten home sooner, she might have gotten his heart started again. If she had just stayed home with her father and watched the Buffy re-runs with him, instead of insisting that she had to go to the gym and go patrolling with Batman, she would have been there to stop the bullet from ever lodging itself in her father's chest.

Except she wasn't.

She didn't even know the name of the man who murdered her father, for crying out loud!

She felt numb, the way she'd felt when she had to go into surgery for a torn ligament in her leg, near her ACL, and the doctor anesthetized her. She felt cut off from the world, disconnected as if she was seeing everything through a veil. She had no idea what would happen to her, because her mother refused to come back to care for her. Her mother insisted that she was _his_ child and that she would have nothing to do with her. Barbra was in shock. Weren't mothers supposed to love and care for their children no matter what? She just happened to get the one that lived halfway around the world and wouldn't come back to take care of her daughter in the event of James Gordon's death. When her parent's had first split up, Barbra had decided to stay with her father, because she wanted to stay at Gotham Jr. high with her friends, and she wanted to graduate from Gotham high with that same set of friends. Well, minus one because Pamela Isley got turned into a plant. Her mother evidently hated her for that, and now wanted nothing to do with her because she was her father's child.

Well bully for her.

"Barbra?" A woman called. Barbra might have recognized her once, before all this. An M came to mind. Martinez? Mann? Marshall? Maddock? That sounded suspiciously like Matt Murdock from Daredevil. Barbra decided that she'd been reading too many comic books.

"Hmm?" Barbra responded monotonously. She glanced up at the woman speaking to her.

"The funeral is starting dear. Did you prepare a speech? You know they expect you to give a speech, right? It is your father's funeral after all. Of course, you probably don't want to think about that, what am I saying? But still, if you don't know what to say, just say something about how he was a great man and how you loved him and then burst into tears and have to leave the podium because your throat is all clogged up with unshed tears and if you try to talk than you'll suffocate to death on your own tears, and then we'll have to attend your funeral too. No-no-no-no, not what I meant! So sorry Barbra, I really am horrible at this whole comforting grieving people thing! Why don't I just shut up now? I'm sure you'll do fine!" The woman babbled, leading Barbra out to the graveyard. White metal folding chairs were set out on the lawn, and a wooden podium stood in front of a stone angel and a huge dirt hole. Barbra tried hard not to think about what was in that huge dirt hole. The priest approached the pulpit and Barbra tried to pay attention.

"Oh God, whose mercies cannot be numbered: Accept our prayers on behalf of thy servant James Gordon, and grant him an entrance into the land of light and joy, in the fellowship of thy saints; through Jesus Christ thy Son our Lord, who liveth and reighneth with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever."

"Amen." Barbra whispered, her lips barely moving. I

The people recited Psalm 130, and Barbra did her best to join in. She read the psalm out of the bulletin, but felt so out of it. She sat when she was supposed to sit, and she stood when she was supposed to stand. She mumbled along with the service as best as she could, but she just couldn't get into it.

"O God, whose blessed Son was laid in a sepulcher in the garden: Bless, we pray, this grave, and grant that he whose body is buried here may dwell with Christ in paradise, and may come to thy heavenly kingdom: through thy Son Jesus Christ our Lord."

"Amen"

"And now, the daughter of the departed, Miss Barbra Gordon will give a eulogy." Barbra got up, and slowly dragged herself to the pulpit, trying not to trip on her walking death traps, a.k.a. stiletto heels.

"Um," She spoke in a cracked voice. She sounded tired, and she was. She just wanted all this to be over. "I'm still in shock, so bear with me if I wing this and it makes absolutely no sense.

My father was an amazing man. He helped everyone he could possibly help, and gave his everything to make sure that Gotham was a safe place to live. Maybe it hasn't happened in his lifetime, and maybe it won't even happen in my lifetime, but I know that someday, Gotham is going to be a beautiful metropolis where everyone is going to want to raise their children. I know because my father told me.

I love my dad with that special love that any child has for their parent, and I wish him the best on his journey to heaven. I promise that I will do all I can to finish what my father started.

Gotham has lost a savior, a neighbor, a coworker, a policeman, a friend, and a father, but most of all it has lost a hero.

I love you Daddy.

God rest your soul." Barbra stepped down from the pulpit with a red rose in hand to place on her father's casket. Silent tears streaked down her face.

It happened so fast that no one knew at first what had happened at all. Later, many witnesses said that they had thought Barbra had just struck the pulpit with her leg as she was turning, for a loud crack sounded out. Only three people knew what it was from the start, and being far enough away they were only able to watch helplessly as a bullet slammed into Barbra Gordon's chest. Screams rang out as the people realized what had happened, but the sniper only struck once. Blood as red as the rose in Barbra's hand blossomed, pouring out almost beautifully. Barbra collapsed to her knees as the only three people who could possibly help her attempted to fight their way through the chaotic crowd. Someone had a vendetta against the Gordon family, and now the last one standing was lying in a pool of her own blood.

"God help us all."


	3. Once Upon A Pain Med

**Guess what? It's chapter three up already! This must be a new record!**

**Luiz4200: Yeah, I know… he isn't really a main character in this one. We should make a shrine for him or something. Hey, thanks for following me to this one too! It's nice to see a familiar face. :) **

**Disclaimer: Yo, I don't own it, kay?**

Everyone at the funeral was panicking, save a young boy, an older man, and a middle aged man. The fought the mass of people until they reached the bleeding girl.

"Aw man!" The boy exclaimed. His face gave away his light-hearted attitude, and anyone could see that despite his calm exterior, he was worried. "Some guardians we are! We haven't even taken her home and she's been shot!"

"Calm down and give me your jacket." The older man declared.

"I'll call 9-1-1." The middle aged man added.

"Good. Bruce, give me your pen first." The older man ordered, as if he was a pro at repairing bullet wounds. Which, of course, he was. Bruce Wayne dug around in his jacket pocket until he found a pen, and handed it to the other man.

"Here's my jacket Al." the boy said, shrugging it off. "You know, I'm sure she would think we were a much more competent foster family if we didn't let her die before we even got to meet her!"

"She's not going to die Master Grayson." Alfred replied, methodically cutting off the sleeve off the boy's jacket. He tied it on the girl's arm, on top of the wound, and placed the pen in the knot, twisting it tighter. "Luck was on her side. If the bullet had hit her one second earlier, she wouldn't have been turning to exit the podium, and the shooter wouldn't have missed. It was en route for her heart, but that tiny movement slammed the bullet into her shoulder instead."

"Well, that's brilliant, Al," the boy began, "But she's gotta hang on until the paramedics get here. She's already lost consciousness, can she last that long?"

"Of course she can."

"I hope."

**Barbra **

I sat up, wincing as I did. Was I in the BatCave? What was going on? BEEP. I had no shirt. Where was my shirt? Oh, I had bandages around my torso and my left shoulder. BEEP. Well, it covers the important stuff, so point one is covered. BEEP. Point two- where the heck am I? Now that I was a bit more conscious, I could tell that it defiantly wasn't the BatCave. BEEP. It's too white for that. What happened prior? BEEP. Why couldn't I remember? Wait! I was in… the cemetery. BEEP. And… I was shot, yeah! Wait, does that mean that I'm dead? Aww! I don't want to be dead! BEEP. Man, you'd think they'd give me a shirt in heaven… Does that mean I'm alive? How cool. BEEP. That beeping is getting annoying. Can somebody please shut it up?

HEY! I'm in a hospital! I'm in a hospital, because I was shot, and I'm alive!

Isn't that swell? I lay back down.

"So, you're up?" A boy asked, entering the room. I squinted at him. He looked vaguely familiar.

"Oh, yes. I think. I'm in a hospital. Can I have a shirt?" I asked. He blinked, clearly not following my thought process.

"Um… I don't know where to find you one. Your dress was kinda shredded. You have pants if it's any consolation."

"Hmmm… pants. Pants are good. I like pants. What's today?" I asked. Who as this boy? I'm pretty sure I would have recognized him, once upon a time. Had I been drugged?

Wait, duh. I'm doped up on pain killers. I was SHOT.

"Tuesday. You've been out about six hours."

"Makes sense…" I looked around for an escape route. Did this strangely familiar boy kidnap me?

"You probably don't know who I am. We've met a couple times due to your dad's job and all, but-"

"You're Dick Grayson!" I interrupted, proud that I remembered. "And I'm Barbra Gordon."

"Did you doubt that?" He asked, amused.

"I… um… maybe."

"You're something Barbra." he grinned. I did a quick systems check.

"Eyes, I have eyes. Two, that's good, nose… still in tact, I like that, ears… well, I can hear you- never could wiggle them…neck, spine? Well, they feel alright. Arms… ow! Hey, I guess I was shot in the left shoulder, makes sense, Elbows… bend, good. Fingers 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10. I've got them all. Ribs… feel fine, lovely. Hips… not dislocated, always a good thing… Hey, my knee hurts. Not bad though, I'll live. Ankles… they roll, good. Toes… 1, 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 , 8 , 9 , 10. I have them all." I passed inspection, and I grinned.

"You're pretty conscious for someone who's been drugged out of your mind." he said with a grin.

"Habit. How old am I?"

"Are you kidding me?" He asked, eyes widening.

"No, not really." I replied, thinking back. I was at the cemetery. Why? Why was Dick Grayson here? I'd never said more to him than hi at some of the parties that Dad made me attend." Oh my gosh, your parents Dick! I'm so sorry!" I cried, struggling to sit up. That would mean that I was 12. Dick shoved me back down.

"Stay still, you're going to hurt yourself. Do you really not remember? You're 16 Barbra. My parents have been dead for a while." he said quietly.

"Oh. I thought I felt older." I muttered, thinking hard. "Who died than? I've been racking my brain, but I swear, I think someone wiped my memory. Why was I at the cemetery? Who died?" He sighed and crossed back to my bedside, taking my hand.

"Your dad, Barbra." he whispered. "I'm so sorry." I closed my eyes in bewildered despair, as a tear leaked out of the corner of my eye.

"It's gonna be okay, though." He tried. "Bruce is fostering you. You're gonna live with us. We'll take care of you."

"He's really dead?" I asked, utterly shocked. I never thought my dad could die. Sure he had a risky job, but he was my dad! I could never see him dead. He was supposed to be invincible. I never thought that it would hit this close to home.

"Bruce? No, he's as alive as you and me. Well, maybe me. You're deader than he is."

"No, my dad." I clarified, teary eyed.

"Yeah. I'm so sorry Barbra." He whispered. I wiped a tear out of my eye, wincing as I did. The smallest movement felt like a knife tearing through my shoulder.

"I feel so stupid. You and Bruce have both lost your parents. At least I have a mom."

"Well, yeah, but in a way its worse knowing she's out there somewhere and won't come back. I don't envy you."

"Great, so I officially won the pity party." I rolled my eyes.

"Oh, in your systems check you mentioned your knee hurt. I can clear that up for you. You'll have to wear a knee brace for a bit. You struck your knee on the podium when you fell, and it twisted your knee-cap all the way around."

"Ugghh!" I interrupted, shivering. I blanched and gingerly touched my knee-cap.

"They fixed it…" Dick laughed, incredulously.

"Right, right." I sighed with relief, rubbing my knee.

"Are you alright Barbra?" He asked, watching me closely, and I knew he wasn't referring to my knee. I thought about my situation, about my dad, about Dick. I was comfortable talking to him, but who knew if that was just because I was drugged out of my mind. For that matter, who knew how I would react once I owned my mind.

"It's debatable. I'll get back to you on that." I murmured, closing my eyes.

Dick smiled sadly at the sleeping girl, than turned from her still form and left.


	4. Once Upon A Not So Cinderella Story

**Hey you guys-ses. What goes on? I finished my next chapter for you to enjoy! Although I don't know how many of you are enjoying it… Well, it's fun for me to write, so I'll write it whether you enjoy it or not! :) Nyah! **

**Luiz4200: it's gonna be kinda cleared up in this chapter, but basically she repressed all memory of what happened due to the traumatic shock of being shot. She remembers everything about her life save the last week, and its starting to come back to her.**

"Miss Gordon? Miss Gordon?" a doctor asked, shaking me awake. "You've been cleared to be discharged, and your foster family is waiting outside. Mr. Wayne has provided street clothes for you. Once you get changed you will be escorted to the car in a wheelchair."

"A wheelchair?" I asked. "But I can walk just fine. You said yourself that I just had to wear this brace for about a week."

"Of course. It's a minor injury. However, we can't risk you falling and suing the hospital over your injuries. All patients are escorted out in a wheelchair." The doctor insisted. I accepted the clothes that he handed me. In the Wayne's many visits I had let it slip that I was going to wear black every day in mourning of my father. I didn't add that I was actually only going to wear black until I could forgive myself for letting my father die, because that would only provoke a bought of 'it isn't possibly your fault, Barbra's. They couldn't understand.

Anyway, Mr. Wayne had gotten me a black shirt and a pair of black jeans, but I suspected that they cost more than my entire wardrobe put together. Of course, that wasn't too hard since I mostly shopped at thrift stores. I got dressed and sat down obediently in the wheelchair. That thing was kind of comfortable. I guess that's how people are able to sit in it all the time. I would hate it if I had to be in a wheelchair 24/7.

I was still remembering everything that had gone down. The doctor told me that I had repressed my memories when I was shot, my brain's attempt at forgetting the traumatic event. I had forgotten enough that I had no idea why I was at the cemetery. It was all coming back slowly.

"Barbra! It's good to see you. I trust you're doing better?" Mr. Wayne asked as the doctor wheeled me out to the Wayne's limousine.

"Um, yeah. Kinda. I've been better, Mr. Wayne." I replied.

"It's to be expected. Please, call me Bruce."

"Um…ok." I confirmed. Dick got out of the car to help me in. "Thanks Grayson."

"No problem Babs. Hey, meet Alfred. He's the butler, but he's actually more like family." Grayson added.

"Hey." I said with a nod at the driver.

"Good day." Alfred responded. I sat back and looked around the car.

I don't know what I expected in a limo, but I was surprised to find out that the seats go long ways instead of horizontal. I mean, I guess I never thought about it, but if it were horizontal, that'd be a lot of rows of seats…

"Anyway, this is gonna be cool, ok Babs? It'll be awesome having someone who's my age at the place. Not that Bruce and Al aren't cool. And that you'd rather be at home. But, you know all things considered, it could be worse."

"Yeah. Worse. "I mumbled, twisting around to look out the window.

"You were much more fun when you couldn't remember anything." Dick grumbled.

"And doped up on Valium, don't forget that." I added. "Hey, is that-"

"Yup. Welcome home Barbra."

Ok, I know Wayne Manor is big, but I expected to be able to find my way to the front door!

"Let's see… we've got a swimming pool and a gym in the basement, the first floor is all of our living stuff that people like to see when they come over to our house. The second floor is Bruce's work stuff, and our rooms are on the top floor. Hey- do you like horses? We've got stables in the back."

"Sounds cool." I replied. I had to make a conscious effort not to shrug. Rubbing my shoulder, I carefully got out of the car.

"You've got a gym? Do you have, like a beam and a mat and stuff?" I asked, curious.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Well, I'm in gymnastics. Actually, I was supposed to go Olympic, but with what happened…" I trailed off and bit my lip. "Um, anyway, I just didn't want to have to ask you guys to drive me to the gym all the time. Of course, I'll still have to ask if my coach can come over."

"Are you kidding? That's great! I had no idea you were that good. Well, I guess it's up to Bruce." Dick said with a shrug.

"It's fine with me, granted you wait to heal." Bruce shot a meaningful look at Barbra. "I know you dancers always just put ice on your injuries and just keep going."

"Hey! Gymnastics, not dance. Comprende?" I grumbled. "Gymnastics combines elements of both dance and acro, and I am a much more acro based person. Don't call it dance."

"Got it." Dick nodded.

"Would Miss Gordon like to view her room?" Alfred asked. "Master Richard can take you while I get started on dinner."

"Um… yeah. Sure." I replied. I followed the trio into the house and stopped in awe.

"Yeah, it's a little intimidating." Dick said, watching my awed face. I mean, this isn't a mansion. This is a male friendly Cinderella castle. Trust me.

Following Dick up the double spiral staircase, I couldn't keep from pinching myself as I viewed the beautiful house.

Stop it Barbra. You're not allowed to enjoy this, remember? Remember what got you here. Never forget it. Your dad was murdered, and now you're going to live like Cinderella?

"Sorry the rooms are so high up. We figured that we would have the most privacy if we set our rooms up on the top floor, what with the party-goers, and business people in and out around here. There's an elevator in the back of the house, but I figured you should get the scenic view this time. Oh crap! I forgot about your knee! Does it hurt? Do you want to take the elevator?" We were almost to the second set of stairs by now.

"I'm fine Grayson. I promise." I rolled my eyes. "A girl dislocates her knee one time…"

"Well, if you turn right, it'll lead you to Bruce's room, and Alfred's quarters are right after. Turn left instead, and my room is the first on the right. Your room is down at the end of the hall, at the curve, because it has the best view. I remember I used to like sitting in there and looking out the window to think when I first got here."

"The curve?" I asked.

"Yeah, this floor is kinda roundish…anyway, we tried to decorate your room best we could, but if you don't like it we can take you shopping."

I opened the door at the end of the hall, and stepped into my room.

Can you say wow?

It had plush beige carpet, which I thought was kinda weird since every other room in the house had hardwood. Dick was right- the room was kinda rounded, like a semi-circle. The walls were painted grey, and there were dark purple curtains framing the windows. Two framed pictures hung above the bed, and I walked over and took a look.

"This was on my fourteenth birthday." I said in a choked voice, pointing to the picture on the left. "My dad took me ice skating. He was terrified that I would be cold, so he had me wear that winter vest over my sweater, and fur lined boots, as well as mittens, a knit cap, and a scarf, and then he went and got a cold himself! See how we have our arms around each other? It wasn't just for the picture- I had to hold him up on the ice!" I smiled fondly, and moved over to the second one. It was a picture of me in the air, mid-splits. I smiled. "This one was taken by my dad at the Junior Olympics. See that form? I didn't realize it at the time, but that's actually really good. See how my back is completely straight? You have to point your toes, your legs need to be perfectly horizontal, and your back needs to be perfectly vertical. I can't believe how easy it was to smile then…" I trailed off. "I'm sorry. I'm boring you."

"Not at all." Dick replied, walking over to the framed photograph on my desk. He picked it up and handed it to me. "What's this one?"

"My dad gave me a camera for Christmas last year. I'm kind of a techie. Anyway, this is the first photo I took." It was of my father and me, arms around each other and grinning. Smiling was so easy with dad around. It would be so easy only two weeks ago.

Dick noticed my sudden change of mood. He put his hand on my shoulder.

"Hey, I'm gonna go help Alfred with dinner. You want to be alone for awhile?" he asked.

"Yeah" I replied. He left, closing the door behind him. I sat down on my new bed, with the framed photo in hand.

_Dear Dad,_

_How are you? Well that's kinda a stupid question. You're dead, that's how you are. I miss you a lot. The Waynes are nice to me. I guess its best for me to be with them, since they've all dealt with losing a loved one, and comforting one another. I wish you didn't have to leave me. I feel kinda guilty, living the high life while you're dead. I love you so much Daddy. I'll do my best to move on for you. I know you'd want me to. I just need a little time for mourning and self pity._

_I love you sooooooooo much Daddy._

_Barbra._

I laid back and closed my eyes. Next thing I knew, Dick was shaking me awake.

"Hey, Babs. Wake up. Dinner's almost done."

I sat up and glanced at the picture of my father and myself. Something peaking out of the corner of the photo caught my attention. I quickly pulled off the back of the frame.

"Hey what're you doing?" Dick asked. I pulled the white slip of paper out and replaced the back.

"Nothing important." I replied. "I'll be down in a sec." I turned my attention to the note as he left. I gasped as I read the note written in a very familiar handwriting.

_Barbra,_

_Don't feel guilty. I didn't want to leave. Live the best life you can, ok Red? I love more than the stars in the sky._

_Daddy._


	5. Once Upon the Porcelain Goddess

**Bonjour ya'll! (See what I did there?) OK, I've been gone awhile, but I'm back! And btw, did you know that the SAT isn't near as terrifying as I thought it'd be? Just saying…**

**Luiz4200: Nah, Barbra's just suffering from your everyday ordinary haunting. No big deal… But no, James just hasn't moved on yet.**

**SakuraTenshi36092: Aww! If you didn't cry at Titanic, than I'm so proud you cried at this! Thanks a ton that means a lot. And yes, crazy people are more fun.**

**Disclaimer: Heya! So, uh, I guess you guys know what's coming. Let's take a wild guess and say I don't own it, k?**

I sat up with a grunt, and realized that I'd been sobbing into my pillow for quite some time, and Dick never came back to get me. I sat up, grateful for the privacy he allowed me, than stared with shock at my new expensive pillows.

"Uh… Mr. Alfred, sir, mister … um, man?" I called, tentatively. He was in my room within minutes. "Um, hi. How do you get mascara stains out, do you know? I mean, I know blood comes out with cold water, and grass comes out with water and rubbing alcohol, but what do you do for mascara? I'm sorry, I feel really bad I stained your fancy silk pillows or whatever. I hope it comes out. Are you mad at me? I'm so sorry! I'll wash it right away."

Mr. Alfred gently pushed down the pillow I was clutching defensively. "Miss Gordon, I'll take care of the pillow. I'm not mad. And for the record, you use oil-solvents. Now, I'm going to go downstairs and take care of this pillow as well as get started on dinner, and you will freshen up and make yourself presentable." He winked kindly, and I was sure I had mascara smeared all over my face. I blushed slightly.

"But, Dick said you were eating dinner about an hour ago, Mister Alfred, sir…man."

"Master Richard informed us he didn't think you would be down for a while, and we agreed to wait, Miss Gordon."

"Please, call me Barbra."

"Please, call me Alfred. Minus the Misters, sirs, and the man." He smiled gently.

"Sure thing. And for the record, you guys didn't do anything wrong. And I'm not normally this wimpy, I promise."

"I never doubted you for a second, Miss Barbra." He gently took the pillow from my arms and left me to repair the damage of my sob-a-thon.

Ten minutes later, I had washed my face, put on fresh unstained clothes, and pulled my hair back into a ponytail. I finally clomped down the two flights of stairs to the main floor.

"Um… hello? Lost girl in the house?" I called as I reached ground level. I looked back and forth in hopes of finding a clue to the kitchen, until Grayson finally appeared, finding me standing bewildered at the bottom of the stairs.

"Lost already?" He teased. "There's no hope for you."

"There would be if your house wasn't so darn big." I shot back. "I'm surprised you guys don't drive around your house with a car."

"Yeah, yeah." he snorted. "Dining room's this way."

As I followed Grayson to the kitchen, I thought long and hard about what had just went down. Maybe I was going crazy. I mean, my dad was dead. That's the way it is. As much as I wish he was alive, he wasn't.

But then why was that note there?

Suddenly it hit me. Maybe he'd left it for me when he went on a police convention trip for work and I'd never found it. I just so missed him I instantly thought it was a message from the dead.

But that was just crazy, right? Of course, as Batgirl, I'd seen some crazy things. Which reminds me…?

What the heck happened to my suit?

"You're awful quiet." Grayson declared softly, interrupting my thoughts.

"Oh, yeah, um, my knee's just bothering me." I replied with a wince. It wasn't a lie either. I rubbed it and groaned softly. His eyes widened.

"I think we've got some Advil in the kitchen. Is it bad?"

"I've had worse." I think back to various torn ligaments and broken bones from gymnastics and to gunshot wounds and stabbings from my nightly patrols. Oh yeah, I've had worse.

I followed Dick into the kitchen, as he pointed out the Advil beside the refrigerator. I opened the fridge and got a bottle of water, wrote my name on it with a sharpie, and downed two Advil. I rubbed my knee again, and turned to face Alfred.

Nausea slammed into me as I fell to my knees. My heart pounded in my ears as I shut my eyes, trying to forget the scene my brain had just been reminded of.( And if you don't think that's a weird sentence, read it again!)

"Barbra! What's-"

"Blood." I groaned, fighting back the bile that rose to my throat. Alfred understood the situation instantly.

"Master Richard, get her to the bathroom, now. Mister Bruce, cover that meat. I'll get her an Antacid."

Grayson drug my practically limp body down the hall to the bathroom, where I fell unceremoniously out of his grip onto my knees. He held my hair off my face and tried to cushion my fall as I finally let my stomach go. After several minutes of painful retching, I wiped my mouth on a tissue and sat back against him with a groan.

"I'm really sorry." I croaked, as I stood and flushed the toilet.

"For what?' Grayson snorted. "Puking?"

"For grossing you out." I replied. " Ughh. I need water."

We walked back to the kitchen (well, he walked and I kinda staggered.), where I grabbed my water bottle and rinsed out my mouth. I then drained the rest of it, and re-filled it from the tap.

"You know we're not short on water, right?" Grayson laughed nervously. I think he expected me to fall over vomiting again.

"It's better for the environment, so there." I replied, taking the Antacid from Alfred with thanks. I downed it and replaced it in the refrigerator.

"So, Barbara, what just happened?" Bruce asked in a voice that told me he already knew. I wondered why he would bother pretending he didn't.

"I'm really sorry you guys. It's just, well, when I saw that raw meat with all that blood on the counter… all I could see was my dad, dead on the floor. I don't know what came over me. It was just all that blood, I guess. Um, I think I'm gonna have to be vegetarian from now on. I really don't like the taste of my own vomit that much."

"Oh, gosh, we didn't even think Babs. I'm really sorry" Grayson apologized sheepishly.

"It's fine." I muttered. "Can I go to the dining room?"

"Yes, why don't you all get seated, and I'll prepare your meal Miss Gordon." Al suggested.

"Whoa. This is a reaaaaaally big table." I declared, entering the dining room.

"Yeah, we never really got an informal dining room. Most of the time we just sit on the kitchen counters to eat." Grayson explained.

"So, Barbara, tell us about yourself." Bruce declared. He sat at one end of the table, and Dick sat at the other, a mile away. I sat smack dab in the middle of the two.

"Um there's not much to tell really." I shrugged as Al entered the dining room. He set down plates in front of Dick, Bruce and I, than moved to leave.

"Al, stay." Dick pleaded. "Get to know Barbara." Alfred complied, taking the seat across from me. I was relieved when I looked at my plate that was filled with cooked asparagus and a peanut butter jelly sandwich on pita bread. Only Al could make a pb&j fancy.

"Well, what do you do everyday?" Bruce elaborated.

"That's easy. I get up at three in the morning and catch the subway to the gym. I train with my coach first on just warm ups and various drills (you know, like front walkovers) and than we go into my Olympic routine. At 6:30 I catch the subway to Gotham Heights Public High School until 2:00, when I catch the subway back to the gym. I do my homework during breaks, and stay at gymnastics until 5:00. I get home at 5:25, when I eat dinner and finish my homework. I'm in bed by 6:00 so that I can do it all again the next day. I hardly ever see my dad because I'm gone before he wakes up, and I'm in bed before he gets home." I neglected to add that I only slept until 11:00 so I could patrol the city, and that I left patrols at three to get to gymnastics. "It's not easy, because most Olympic athletes get in eight hours of training a day, and I can only get 6 and a half. I have to train extra hard just to keep up, since my dad couldn't afford a tutor, and he's not exactly around all that much to home school me. Of course, thanks to all this I doubt I'll be able to make the Olympic auditions this year."

"Um… wow Babs. Busy much?" Dick laughed. I smiled sadly.

"Yeah. " I shook my head and stabbed halfheartedly at my dinner. "You know that saying the sun always looks brighter when you're standing in the shade? I never realized how much I needed my father until he's really gone. He always left me little notes around the house so I could actually feel like my dad lived with me, since we never really saw each other. I never knew just how much knowing he was alive meant to me."


	6. Once Upon the Chamber of Secrets

**IIIIIIIIII"M BAAAAAAAACK! Didja miss me? Didja? Didja?**

**SakuraTenshi36092: I'm sorry I'm turning you into a mushy sponge, and just as a warning, you might want to get out your tissues now, because this one's gonna be a doozy. And by the way, no Bruce and Dick don't know she's Batgirl, but how long can you hide it from the world's greatest detective, right?**

**Disclaimer: OK, let me list them… Seether owns the song Broken. All rights reserved, or whatever. Um… JK Rowling and Warner Bros. have the rights to Harry Potter. And, of course, the biggie- Batman. I don't own him neither. **

"What? You're kidding me Bruce." Dick spat, angrily. "Gotham is my city too."

"And on any other night I'd let it be." Bruce shot back, pulling on his cape. "But for once this isn't about you."

"Al can take care of her just as well as I can!" Dick yelled. "Admit it, you're mad at me for something, and this is how you want to punish me, isn't it? Or maybe you've decided you're saving my life by taking Robin away from me."

"This isn't for forever, Dick, you're overreacting." Batman declared. "I only asked you to stay behind tonight and watch Barbara."

"I'm pretty sure Barbara doesn't need a babysitter!" Dick exclaimed. "She's sixteen Batman; she can take care of herself."

"No one expected it to hit her this hard, Dick, but you forget that the only person she's been able to depend upon her entire life was just murdered right before her own eyes."

"I saw my parents die too, and I didn't turn into a vegetarian, or go puke in the bathroom, or mope around for hours! Barbara's cool and all, but why can't she just grow up? We've all suffered loss, and you don't see me spewing all over the floor."

"You have to see it from her point of view, Dick. You heard her at dinner; her entire life was mapped out for her. She's not used to having enough time to sit and think about her pain. What's more, she depended on her dad like crazy, but he was practically a ghost. And her mother left her. She's pretty much raised herself her entire life, and now the only person she's ever been able to trust, the only person who hasn't left her, the only one she could depend upon, is dead."

"I assume you know more than she's told us?" Dick sighed.

"Of course. I did some research. Turns out, and I quote, her best friend got turned into a giant plant."

"No." Dick breathed. "Pamela Isley?"

"None other." Bruce nodded. "I've dug into her social networking sites, and it turns out everyone dropped her after that. She has reason to feel alone- it's because she is. Now will you stay behind to watch over her without complaint?"

Dick swore. "Man, you're good."

"Of course. I'm Batman."

Dick padded upstairs silently, pulling off his cowl and cape as he went. He darted past Barbara's room, where he swore he heard crying. Sneaking into his own room and changing back into street clothes, he cursed Barbara for having such a screwed up life, than took it all back because he knew it wasn't her fault. He shoved his costume down a laundry chute that lead to the Batcave, and sat down on his bed, trying to figure out what to do.

_Dear Diary,_

_I'm going to have to make up a lot of hours if I want to even have a chance at auditioning for the Olympic team. I figure that it's what Dad would have wanted. I mean, if he could see me now, he would be yelling at me for giving up my dream just because he died. At least, I think he would- maybe that's just what I want him to do. I love Dad so much, and I want to honor him, but maybe it can wait until after the Olympics?_

_On a different note, I think I've convinced Bruce, Al, and Grayson that I'm a first class wimp. I'm not sure what's wrong with me exactly- it's not like I managed to see much of Dad anyway. I suppose it's just the knowledge that he really isn't wandering around the house when I'm asleep that upsets me. Sometimes I wish that Dad had left me like mom, because at least then I would have doubt. What if he was happy and living in San Diego with a wife and two and a half kids and a dog and a white picket fence? I like to imagine that mom is living nice like that. At least I can imagine with her. Why couldn't Dad have hurt me then, so it wouldn't hurt so much now?_

_I found my Batgirl suit, thank goodness. It was stored just where I've always left it- in a lift away bottom in my hygiene box. Most of my belongings had been auctioned off to pay the debt on our house before Bruce got to them, but he managed to buy a few of my things back. Some of my most personal belongings that had been sold, he managed to buy back from their new owners, or so Alfred told me. I just really hope that he didn't pull up the bottom of my box, but I doubt that he did. I threw a handful of pads and tampons on the top layer of the box in the hopes it would discourage people from digging any deeper._

_I'm not sure when, if ever, I'll go back to being Batgirl. I suppose I'm not ready to give hope to other people yet. Maybe I need to find my own hope first._

_Regards,_

_Barbara Gordon _

Barbara sighed and set down her pen. Suddenly, she whirled around and punched the wall, ramming her fists into it over and over again, letting the pain sink in. Tears cascaded down her face, making their way across her lips and over her chin, slithering down her clothing and dripping onto the floor.

"WHY ME?" She screeched, putting all her pain and suffering into those two simple, innocent words. "Why me, why me, why me?"

Anger boiled in her blood, hating the deck of cards she had been handed. Why did people like Mary and Claire from school get to live normal lives? Why didn't they have to deal with the kind of pain she did? It just wasn't fair!

As she pounded the wall one last time, the pain in her knuckles suddenly hit her. She rested her forehead against the wall, all the anger instantly washed out of her, leaving her only with sorrow for company. She dimly noticed her mp3 player switch songs.

Dick was sitting outside Barbara's room the entire time, trying to work up the courage to go in and comfort her. As hard as he tried, he couldn't think of anything to do, so he sank to the ground outside her door and let his head fall into his hands, as he waited for Barbara to calm down. Why couldn't she just be one of those girls who never broke down, who was always laughing?

_I wanted you to know_

_I love the way you laugh  
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain away_

Barbara examined her bleeding fist as best as she could through tear stained eyes. All she could tell was that it hurt really badly and that there was a lot of blood. She tried her best to ignore the bloodstains on the wall, as she sank down to the ground, her back against the signs of her pain. She didn't want to see it. She didn't want to deal with it. That would make this all so real. Her hand brushed something on the floor, and she hissed as it stung. At least this pain was better than the pain inside. She picked the object up, and instantly felt tears pricking the back of her eyes again. It was a picture of her father that had fallen on the floor in her rage.

_I keep your photograph, I know it serves me well  
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain  
'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome  
And I don't feel right when you're gone away_

Dick felt horrible that he didn't go into Barbara's room. Form the sound of it, the worst of her rage was over, and he still couldn't work up the courage to go and sit with her. He listened to her tears falling onto the ground, and wondered what the damage to the room was. Of course, Al had had that one room carpeted when it was his room, as he had a tendency to throw things and punch things and kick things when he first moved in. The original hardwood floor was completely ruined, and Al felt carpet was safer. Maybe Barbara wasn't taking it as bad as he thought, Dick mused, his mind going back to his first days at the manor. The worst would be over for Barbara soon, as long as she had them to help her fight it.

_The worst is over now and we can breathe again  
I wanna hold you high, you steal my pain away  
There's so much left to learn, and no one left to fight  
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain_

Barbara swiped at her eyes. She knew she had created a racket and someone would be there pretty soon, and Barbara hated breaking down in front of people. She always waited until night, when no one would notice. Always. Barbara was a creature of the night. She hated sharing her pain with others, hated seeming weak. She hated needing help, but there was a limit to how much pain she could take on her own. She needed someone to lean on, someone to help her mop up the blood on the wall. She was strong, but she wasn't that strong. She wasn't strong enough.

"Dick!"

_'Cause I'm broken when I'm open  
And I don't feel like I am strong enough  
'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome  
And I don't feel right when you're gone away_

"Golly Babs, did you have to break the wall?" Dick asked, surveying the rather large dent in the drywall. He and Barbara had already washed the gray wall, and he had thought it seemed kind of symbolic at the time, washing away her blood, together. He hung the framed picture of her father over the dent in the wall, so that at least she wouldn't have it staring at her all night reminding her of her pain. Barbara smiled slightly and wiped away the remnants of a tear. He turned his attention to her hand, which she wouldn't let him fix up until the room was better.

_You're gone away  
You don't feel me here anymore _

He finished carefully wrapping tape around her gauzed hand, having figured it wasn't worth it to wake up Al. By this time, Barbara had stopped crying completely, and her red blotchy skin had left her.

"Thank you, Grayson." Barbara whispered. "I'm sorry you had to come running in here like my knight in shining armor."

"More like rusted armor." he joked, remembering how long he'd sat, trying to figure out what to do.

"I just… can't do it on my own, I guess." She shrugged, and pain flashed a crossed her face as her bullet wound made itself known.

"Well then, it's a good thing you don't have to." Dick replied, helping her to her feet. "None of us did." He watched her closely, figuring that she wasn't about to fall asleep anytime soon.

"Want to watch a movie?" he offered. "Better yet, want to watch a Harry Potter marathon? I think it takes seventeen something hours to watch all eight. I have a DVD player and TV in my room. We'll stay up all night, drowning our sorrows in The Boy Who Lived."

And that's just what they did. _  
_


	7. Once Upon An Olympic Sized Struggle

**You guys, I have an excuse, I swear. I'm in three plays, back to back to back. Then my computer crashed, and I lost all my files. We recovered most of them- I was really sobbing, because that's like my life's work, lost!- most of them, that is, except this one. So I'm starting from scratch and forgive me for the delay. And forgive me if this chapter doesn't flow as well. I also just lost Rufus to the big fishbowl in the sky, so I'm really depressed right now. I loved that fish.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Batman, my fish wouldn't have died. I would have paid someone to revive him. Also, my computer wouldn't have lost all my files, because I would be rich enough to save them. And I would have an editor to tell me to just get over myself, because the people want more. So, obviously, I don't own it.**

**SakuraTenshi36092: Don't worry, I'm pretty sure this one will be happy, if Rufus doesn't cloud my judgment. I would most defiantly have a diary like that if I was a super hero, but don't worry: she keeps it under lock and key so masterfully that Batman himself couldn't break in!**

**Cat: Will do! If I don't lose it again. Meow.**

When Dick woke up, Barbara wasn't there. She had fallen asleep on his shoulder sometime through the fifth movie- she tried really hard to stay up because that one was her favorite- and he had dozed off in the sixth. He guessed she had woken up before him and taken leave, so he stood up and took the DVD out of his T.V. He glanced at his clock and realized that it was early afternoon. Crossing to his bedside table, he noticed a receipt from GameStop that wasn't where he had left it. He flipped it over and smiled slightly.

_Thanks. -B _

He changed clothes, than headed downstairs, where he found Alfred and Bruce in the living room. Bruce was doing something on his laptop, either Batman work or WayneTech work, and Alfred was glaring dangerously at him for not using a coaster.

"It was very quiet last night." Bruce said. "You didn't miss much."

"You did." Dick declared. "Barbara punched a hole in the wall."

"We heard." Alfred said. " I'll take some spackle to it this afternoon."

Dick giggled. "Spackle."

"Sometimes…" Bruce sighed. A blast of Tchaikovsky echoed from the basement, and Alfred grinned. "I must say, I appreciate Miss Barbara's taste in classical music. She's been listening to Tchaikovsky all day."

"Tchaikovsky!" Dick cried, and raced towards the basement. Alfred and Bruce followed, confused. "Barbara Gordon, I'm gonna kill you!" He shrieked, bursting through the door of the gym.

**Barbara**

"Barbara Gordon, I'm gonna kill you!" Dick yelled as he crashed through the door of the gym. I gave a little shriek, stumbling a bit to the left and falling on my side.

"What in the world?" Leslie, my coach, asked from the big screen we were skype-ing on.

"What do you think you're doing?" Dick cried. "You dislocated your knee cap and were shot in the shoulder, and you think you can work out still?"

"I know the extent of her injuries, young man, and I know how to cater to them." Leslie declared. "I am, after all, a professional coach, and if you think I'm going to put Barbara in danger of permanent injury, you'd better think again. Ok, kid?"

"Who's the lady on the big screen?" Dick asked, as I sat up. Bruce and Alfred entered the gym behind him, looking confused.

"This is Leslie, my coach. She's been coaching me since I was three years old, and I trust her to know what my body can and can't handle." Besides, I added to myself, it's not like I've never been shot before.

"Who's the snot nose kid in the gym?" Leslie called back, mocking Grayson.

"His name is Dick Grayson. His family and he have been kind enough to take me in, so I would appreciate it if you wouldn't antagonize him." I replied, evermore the peacekeeper. They both made the stink face, and Alfred and Bruce walked off, shaking their heads.

"Let's take it from the top Barbara." Leslie declared, and Grayson stalked off deeper into the gym. I stepped into the middle of the mat, after re-chalking my feet, and got into position. Leslie hit the music and I whirled into action. The floor is my best category, and I know it shows. Ok, so I about half-A'd everything to protect my knee from further injury, but I know I looked good. Forgive me if I sound like I'm bragging, but I've worked for this since I was three years old, eight hours a day on weekdays, and 13 hours on weekends. That's 44,616 hours I've put into making it to the Olympics. I'm gonna look good. So my aerials didn't get as high as they normally do, I couldn't fit as many rotations in as I normally do… so what? I've got a few months. I stuck the landing on a pike leap, slightly out of bounds, and I cursed under my breath. Without skipping a beat, I crossed to the opposite corner and pulled a stag leap, then a sommi and a half to get to my next position.

I guess being Batgirl helps me out with gymnastics- at least; it helped me find the style I'm best at. Leslie likes picking Tchaikovsky for me a lot because he's Russian, and most of his music is all dramatic and hostile and very Russian. Well, except for the Nutcracker stuff, because that's all sweet and ballet-ish. Being Batgirl helps give me the hostile edge that I need to make this song really work. And trust me, it really works.

Leslie nodded as I landed my last leap and sunk into my final pose in the middle of the mat.

"Ok Babs, I know you know you went out of bounds, and you don't normally, so I'll let it slide this time. It's not perfect, you need to know that. Your leaps can be higher, your poses sharper, and let's face it- your pike was just plain sloppy. You know what you need to do, so fix it." She declared, and then started the music. "Again."

By mid afternoon, Leslie had deemed my floor work good enough for today. I'd been working with her since about five that morning, and she felt that I'd recovered what I had lost in not practicing for a week. "Barbara?" She called as I was cleaning the chalk off my feet. I turned around to face her. "Tomorrow we work the uneven bars."

I tried not to let out a groan. I was worst on the uneven bars, and best on my floor routine. The beam just kind of fell in the middle, because it was sort of like floor, except on a much thinner mat. Very much thinner.

"Alright, catch you tomorrow Lez." I declared, and Leslie signed off. I started cooling down, when Grayson appeared out of nowhere. I didn't start though- I'd been hanging around Batman and Robin for too long for this kid to scare me. I say kid, but he's really a year older than me. Doesn't look it.

"Geeze. You go through that every day?" He asked, and I nodded, stretching my quads.

"Leslie's a bit enthusiastic, but she's a great coach. She's practically my mom." I added. "You know, if I had a mom."

"Seems tiring." He declared, and sat down on the ground, mimicking my stretches.

"You don't know the half of it." I said with a laugh, thinking of my nightly activities. I was a bit eager to get back to them, but part of me enjoyed my break. I wondered if Batman worried about me.

"We call this one the Spiderman." I explained, dropping to all fours with one leg out behind me and my forearms flat on the floor. "You have to crawl forward like this, switching sides."

"Comic book fan?" he asked with a smirk.

"You have no idea." I replied.

"Seems I don't know much about you. Come on, I know a better way to cool down." He called, as he got up and left the gym. I followed him, and…

stopped dead in my tracks.

"It's a fully functional Olympic sized pool." Grayson declared with a wink. "Bet you'd know a lot about that, huh?" He dove in, but I stood in the doorway in shock.

"Hey, earth to Barbara? Come on in!"

"No thanks." I replied, steering clear of the edge. "I don't have a swim suit."

"You have clothes." He replied.

"With ink that bleeds. I'm sure you don't want a black swimming pool." I shot back. "Besides, I hate swimming fully clothed. They make swim suits for a reason."

"Whatever floats your boat." He shrugged, and began to swim around. I sat at the edge of the pool and dipped my feet in.

"So, the Olympics huh?" he asked while doing a lazy backstroke around the pool. "You're really something Barbara, I tell you."

"Yeah, well, all those athletes you see on T.V., they all came from somewhere. They all have families who can't believe it happened to their kid." I shrugged.

"It makes sense. It just seems really weird to know someone who's as famous as you."

"Hardly." I scoffed. "I haven't even auditioned yet, and even then I won't be someone unless I make it through and place. Face it; this world cares more about actors and football players than gymnasts. And what about you, son of Bruce Wayne? You're in the limelight more than I've ever been in my entire life."

"That's all going to change now. The reporters have been fighting to get at you. Bruce has been turning them away by the bucketful."

"Great." I groaned, and Dick disappeared under the surface. I shuddered, and wondered what my life was going to be like now. Even if I became an Olympic gymnast, it's not like I would be famous like the Wayne's. Even being me, I could only name two or three athletes, and none of them were gymnasts!

A hand wrapped around my ankle, and before I knew what was happening, I was pulled under. I shrieked and pried at Dick's hand, the stupid boy who had no idea what he'd done. I struggled to reach the surface, but I just kept sinking further down. Up above the surface, Dick was laughing.

**Third person Omniscient**

Dick burst out laughing at Barbara's face before she fell- er, was _pulled_ -in the pool. She was _such_ a girl. He wondered for a moment if he was still supposed to be nice to her, but decided that it didn't matter- it was just so _funny!_ After a moment, though, he stopped laughing abruptly. What had seemed like an innocent prank had taken a turn for the deadly, as Barbara failed to re-surface. He panicked, searching the water for her. Again and again he dove, looking for a flash of black, anything, to give her presence away. Suddenly, the pool seemed too deep, too murky, too huge, when just a few moments ago it had been crystal clear and perfect. Suddenly a flash of red caught his eye, and he surged on, finding her struggling to move on the bottom of the pool. He wrapped his arms around her wait and pushed off, breaking the surface of the pool faster than he had ever done. She coughed violently as he made his way to the side of the pool, where they both lay sprawled out on the concrete.

Panting heavily, he hit her hard in the back, trying to expel all the water from her system. She gave a start, then spewed water all over. She gasped hard, trying to regain oxygen in her system.

"Dick Grayson, I'm gonna kill you!" She gasped, and he couldn't help but remember earlier that day when he had said the same to her.

"Why didn't you tell me you couldn't swim?" He asked, or rather, yelled.

"Well, mostly because I didn't think you would _pull me in!"_ Barbara replied, trying to slow her breathing. "Who needs to swim in Gotham? The only water source we have is Gotham Bay, and nobody in their right mind would swim there, not unless they planned to die of mercury poisoning or something!**"**

"I'm sorry Barbara!" he cried, but then a thought struck him. Batgirl couldn't swim either. "You know, I have a friend who says the exact same thing. She's a redhead too…" he mused, wondering if it was just a coincidence. There were a lot of people in Gotham who couldn't swim for the exact reason Barbara had described. On the other hand, how many redheads were there?

Time for the Boy Wonder to get his detective on.


	8. Once Upon a Best Friend

**Guess what youse guys? Oh yeah, I'm back! With school almost out you'd think I'd be updating more, right? But actually, I'm a counsiler at summer camp this year, so I'll try to get as much up before I leave, but no guarantees… **

**Disclaimer: If I owned Batman, do you really think I'd have the entire summer off?**

**DrakesChick: Thanks for understanding about my delays I'm trying to rush this so I can get it done in tie to coincide with the London Olympics, you know? But it's great to know you understand if I can't make it.**

**Juliette Kavanagh: It's true Dick could really duke it out with Babs on the rings, but I figured he'd probably give Babs her time to shine. Maybe after Olympic tryouts? He understands how important practice time is, after all. Thanks for the suggestion!**

**Sakura Tenshi36092: The whole dropping gymnastics thing had been bothering me, because I really didn't want her to just throw away her entire future… and what with the London Olympics coming up… anyway, I decided that Dick will wait to pop her bubble, but her whole little cloud of happiness will definitely be popped, believe me… **

"Barbara? Can I come in?" A voice called, and I nodded. Realizing that the door was not transparent, I called out in the affirmative.

Bruce walked in the door, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I love what you've done with the place." He commented, waving his arm at my various comic book posters. I'd fallen in love with Marvel comics once I realized that my life was just like a comic book. Yeah, I didn't have mutant powers or anything, but if I were in a comic book, it'd be bound to be a hit.

"Yeah, well, I wanted this place to seem like home." I murmured. "I've been here for three months now, and you feel no closer to family. I still feel like an outsider."

"I don't want to try and replace your father, Barbara." Bruce replied, and I shook my head.

"You can't replace him Bruce, and you don't have to. I don't want you to. I just want you to be more like family. Right now, I dunno, it just seems like I'm living at a hotel or something, and you guys just happen to live here too." I sighed.

"When Dick came here, he was young enough that he didn't have the same connection to his parents that you did with your father. He was eager to please me, and I didn't know how to deal with him really" Bruce reminisced. "He never wanted more from me than what I offered. You're sixteen already, Barbara. You've had all these years to develop your idea of family, and it's very different here I suppose."

"Yeah. Bruce, for being Dick's father, you're awful lousy at family matters. You two act like you're roommates or something instead of family. You're not John Grayson, you'll never be John Grayson, but you can still act like a father. You're supposed to give him advice and be overprotective, and tell him you love him and that you're proud of him no matter what he does. It's not too late, Bruce. He needs you. You should be a father for him while he still has you."

"I thought I came in here to check up on you, not to get a lecture." Bruce joked, but I could sense a warning behind it. Barbara, you are brilliant. Just freaking brilliant. Go and criticize the very man whose given you a home just because he's cold and distant and isn't good with kids. Can you spell foster care?

"I'll tell you what Barbara." Bruce declared, surprising me. "You're right- I'm not really a family man. I'm not really a people person either- unless they're beautiful women." He added with a wink. It was honestly more than a little creepy. "I'll try to be more of a people person if you'll talk to Dick. The poor boy's going crazy with guilt. You need to forgive him for throwing you in the pool."

"Protectiveness." I stated. "You're doing better already. It's a deal. I'm feeling better anyway, and I've stopped coughing up water."

"Great." Bruce declared, patting my knee. "I'll send him in."

"Bruce?" I asked, and he turned back to face me. "He's your adopted son, and you're all he has. You're all I have." I added, and he nodded and left.

I flipped my c.d. player on, and hummed along to Tchaikovsky while I began to write in my diary. I knock on the door broke me out of my reverie, and I tossed my journal on my bed as Dick came in.

"He needs to tell me he loves me?" He asked, and I watched his eyes drop to the diary on my bed. Nosey boy.

"Eavesdropping, were we?" I asked rolling my eyes. "He doesn't treat you like a son, and you need a parental figure at this crucial time in you development as an adolescent. I learned that in my psychology class." I explained with a smile

"Yeah, well Freud can kiss my…" he trailed off, with a wink. He obviously learned one thing from Bruce. "I think I turned out fine."

"Are you sure you don't cry in the night due to your frustrations over your lack of parenting?" I teased.

"Speaking of crying in the night…" He began hesitantly. He was _so_ not going to go there.

"I'm fine." I snapped, clipping the end of his sentence, and he shrugged.

"Hey, it's hard. I used to throw things around and break stuff all the time." He turned his attention to the floor, seemingly to change the subject. "You know why this floor is carpeted?"

"Why?" I asked, curious. I'd noticed it was the only room in the house that was.

"Because I used to fall out of bed in my sleep." He stated matter-of-factly, and we both burst out laughing. My laugh sounded hollow, fake, and I wondered if I was really amused or not. "Yeah, Al was afraid I'd break something, namely his floor, so he got it all carpeted."

"I'm sure Alfred was more concerned about you breaking your arm." I stated. "He seems very good at fixing people up. He saved me after I was shot, right? And he helped me stop coughing up water after you tried to drown me." He winced.

"I did say I'm sorry, right?" He asked, and I nodded. He added sheepishly "and I think Al was in the military or something. He's very good at that sort of thing."

"I can see it." I shrugged, and Dick stood up from his place on the floor accusingly.

"Why didn't you tell me you couldn't swim?" He asked as if it was _my _fault he'd almost drowned me.

"Because when I introduced myself, I decided on 'Hi, I'm Barbara Gordon and I'll be living here, I guess' rather than 'I'm Barbara Gordon and I can't swim'. It was a tough decision, but in the end I thought I chose the right one. I supposed not- hindsight is always 20-20, they say."

"True, true." Dick rolled his eyes. "Except the first time I met you, you were unconscious. The second time you asked me for a shirt. If I didn't know who you were prior, I would have to say the first time you introduced yourself was… well, I don't think you did. You told me who I was, which I already knew-"

"- I would hope so." I interrupted.

"And then you said that you were Barbara, kind of like you were reminding yourself who you were. You never once introduced yourself."

"Well, Dick Grayson, My name is Barbara Gordon. I'm coming to live in your house because-" I bit back a tear"- my father was murdered and I have nowhere else to go. Your father was kind enough to take me in. And I can't swim, so don't go around throwing me in any swimming pools."

"I'll keep that in mind." Dick grinned, and then turned to me, nodding at my c.d. player. "You know they have these things called ipods? They're so you don't have to live in the Stone Age anymore."

"Oh, really? Well, let me get out my abacus and see if I can afford one." I replied rolling my eyes. "And while I'm at it, I might as well invent fire too. You know, just in case. And let me go get my Walkman too. Do you know what that is? It's a portable music player."

"Do you really have a Walkman? That's neat." He picked up my diary from my bed and leafed through it.

"Dude!" I cried, smacking it out of his hand. It fell onto the bed with an audible thump. "What are you doing? That's my diary you idiot!" I panicked, flipping through it to try and gauge what he saw. My heartbeat slowed, and I sighed in relief. It was only my decoy diary.

"Sorry, I didn't know." He shrugged. Then he asked the one question I'd been dreading. "Pamela Isley? You knew Pamela Isley?"

"Know actually." I smiled sadly. "Yes, I know Pam. She was my best friend, before… well, you know. She still sorta is. I mean, we obviously don't see eye to eye, but she comes to visit me sometimes. She wants me to join her, but she's just gone too far. She's taking lives now, and I'm not okay with that. I think she thinks I hate her because she's a plant."

"What was Ivy like before?" He asked hesitantly. I smiled and lay back on my bed, allowing a wave of nostalgia to wash me away.

"Pammy and I, man, we were inseparable. We were like twins or something. Pammy's super passionate about everything, which was amazing, but she tended to take it too far. She was one of those radical eco-terrorists, still is really, and I guess I was too, for a while. I was a lot less radical than her, and I kept her in check. We were like Yin and Yang, or peanut butter and jelly. While we still hung out, she never blew anything up, or killed anyone. One time, she wanted to load this one company, ChemTech, I think, with plastic explosives because of the damage they did to the bay. I talked her out it, and we held a protest instead, but look at the bay now. Pam, she had the right idea, she was just way too extremist."

"So that's what it was, huh Red?" Pam asked, crawling through my window. Dick's eyes bulged and Pam laughed. "Ah, grow a pair, kid, any friend of Bab's is a friend of mine."

"Pam!" I cried, and hugged her hard. "I've missed you!"

"Barb." Dick warned, but I brushed him off.

"You really only cut ties with me because I'm radical? Not because I'm, uh, _a giant plant lady that can kill you in your sleep?"_

"Hey, Red, I'm a cop's daughter. I cut ties with you because you're, uh, _evil!"_

"I'm not evil" Pam protested. "I just-"

"blow things up, kidnap people, and commit murder? Face it Red, you've joined the dark side."

"Well, maybe." Pam made a face. "Actually, yeah. But if people would just listen to me and do everything I say-"

"-then you'd be a dictator." I completed. I vaguely heard the soft click of the door, as Dick snuck out of my room.

"Isn't that the best thing to be?" Pam retorted. My heart stopped until I realized she was joking, and Pam winked.

"Come on, Pam, you know how I feel about you and your 'ruling the world' aspiration…" I rolled my eyes, and Pam smiled sadly.

"It's a shame we went our separate ways, Red. I really miss you." Pamela said quietly, and I could see a hint of the old her peaking through the chlorophyll.

"Whenever you're ready to calm down, I'll be here Red. But I can't condone what you're doing. I'll always love you, but until you give in and do your time…" I shrugged, and Pam sighed.

"You always were the righteous one of us, Red. It was always annoying too. Everyone always liked you better. You were Little Miss Perfect, trying to save the planet, and I was just your radical little friend who everyone was afraid of." Pam groaned.

"Whom." I corrected. "Whom everyone was afraid of."

"See? I can't even speak properly around you!" Pamela complained, and I shook my head sadly.

"Red, I never saw you as any less than me. I always looked up to you! I always wanted to be you, up until you turned around. You were always so free, so confident with yourself. I was just the loser knock-kneed best friend with the headband and the plaid skirt. How could you think I saw myself as better than you? You're my-

"Sister from another mister." Pam joined in with a laugh. "God, we were so lame."

"Red, please don't-"

"I know, I know. Don't take the Lord's name in vain. Sorry Father." She added. I'm not sure how much she was apologizing to God, or just trying to make me more comfortable, but I appreciated the gesture all the same. "Anyway, I don't know how you didn't see it. You were some kind of… perfect angel child or something, and I was your horror of a best friend. But of course you never judged me. You couldn't judge anyone. I don't know how you ended up taking me on as your charity case."

"You weren't my charity case, Red. You still aren't. I genuinely care for you Pammie, and-"

"And I care for you Babs." Pam grinned. "You're the only family for me, Red, which brings me back to my point. I came here as soon as I heard about Gordon, Red. I figured that you needed me more than the security guards did."

"Oh, Pam" I cried, and she swept me up into a hug. "I never thought he would die! He always tried to prepare me for it, always said it was a possibility, but I never wanted to…"

"Believe it." Pam whispered into my hair. "I know Red, I know. But I'll always be here for you Babs, no matter how evil I am."

"Is it wrong that I still really want to be best friends with an evil mastermind?" I asked, my voice thick with tears.

"Oh, Red, you know I can't help being evil any more than you can help being good. It's very tragic." Pam rolled her eyes melodramatically, getting me to crack a smile. The door opened, and Bruce, Al, and Dick all pushed into the room. They stared at us, and Pam hugged me tight.

"I suppose you're going to turn me in now?" She asked calmly, and Bruce nodded. "Don't bother; I'll go back on my own. But I won't apologize for breaking out. My best friend needed me, and as we always said…

"A good friend will post bail for you- a best friend will be right there with you, breaking you out." I chimed in. "Thank you Pammie. I really did need you."

"I know." Pam grinned smugly. She stood up and crossed to the window. "I know your old man never liked me, Red, but I'm really sorry he's gone. I know he meant a lot to you."

"Thank you, Red." I whispered, reverently.

"Catch you later Red." She called, ducking through my window. She paused outside just long enough to echo her farewell, and then headed off back to Arkham. I turned to the three men standing in my doorway.

"Thank you for what you've done." I declared quietly. "I appreciate your kindness, truly. But Pam and I have been inseparable since kindergarten, and we've been through a lot together. It means a lot to me that you didn't call the police on her."

"She wasn't technically doing anything illegal." Dick replied with a shrug. "Well, besides the whole breaking out part. And even if she was, it's not like us wimpy rich people could do anything about it."

I don't know about you, but any girl can tell that the Waynes are not wimpy. All of them are especially fit, which I was trying desperately not to notice at the moment, so I didn't know what lie Dick was telling me.

Unless…

I walked over to the window and picked up a lily that Pam had left on the windowsill. I cupped it in my hands and walked back to the Waynes.

"Every girl needs her best girl friends." Dick laughed, and I saw another boy throwing his head back with the same laugh, his jokes as bad as his costuming choices.

"Miss Barbara, are you alright?" Alfred asked, alarmed, and I saw another butler stitching me up after my wounds, his face always covered and always responding to that stereotypical name, Jeeves.

"Barbara, I understand what you were talking about." Bruce declared. "You and Pamela Isley are more family than we could be, because I can't be close to you." He attempted to explain, and I saw another man who shied away from love, who was just as stoic outside as Bruce was inside.

No, it couldn't be…Could it?


	9. Once Upon a What?

**Ok, so this one might not be my longest chapter ever, and please excuse my spelling mistakes, if I have any, but I'm in a rush to get this up for you. I'll probably expand on it later, but I wanted you guys to get an idea of where I'm going with this. **

**Disclaimer : If I owned it, would I be up at midnight trying to get this thing on the road for you guys before I leave for two months? Actually, I probably would. But I would have an editor holding a gun to my head to make me stick to my deadline, and I can assure you there isn't. Or is there? **

"Barbara. Barbara breathe." Bruce called from the front seat.

"Yes, breathing is good. You should definitely try it sometime. Like right about now." Dick added.

"Look at me, baby. You're ready. You're ready for this Barbara." Leslie reassured. None of it was helping.

Yes, that's right. I was on my way to my first tryout- the uneven bars. A.K.A, my worst event.

"Barbara, the bars really aren't that hard." Dick tried to reassure me.

"That's what you think." I managed to shoot back, before returning to rocking back and forth in my seat.

"I've watched you." Dick shrugged. "Actually Babs, I think you've got that whole breathing thing down a little too well. You might want to stop hyperventilating now."

"I've got it." Leslie declared, digging in her purse for a paper sack. "She did this at the Junior Olympics too. Breathe."

I accepted the bag that Leslie offered me and held it up to my face, breathing into it evenly, as Alfred announced

"We're here, Miss Barbara."

"Good. Great. Awesome." I declared. And fainted.

"Barbara? Barbara if you don't wake up right now you're going to miss your turn!" Leslie shrieked, as the Wayne men looked on worriedly. They had tried everything from slapping her to smelling salts to ice water.

"What happened?" I asked with a groan, opening my eyes and looking around. Suddenly I sat up, heart racing. I was in the gym, and my name was next on the line up!

"We couldn't get you to wake up. You missed warm ups." Leslie explained, and I squeaked, clapping my hand to my mouth.

"I'm doomed." I cried, but Leslie only set to work taping up my hands for me.

"Babs, you warmed up a ton this morning. You should still be fine." Dick sighed.

The crowd let out a collective gasp, and I looked up quickly. The girl on the bars, a new comer, had just fallen. That was a full point off her score.

"You see that there? That's me. Right there." I cried out.

"No, it is not, Barbara, and the more you convince yourself that, the more likely it is to happen, so stop it. Now." Leslie demanded. "I think I'll ask to re-chalk the bars. They have to be sweaty by now."

The girl currently on the bars finished her routine, and someone with a headset on ran up, shoving a water bottle in my hands.

"She's up? Good." He declared. "Sara Beth's scores will be posted after the commercial break, and then it's you."

Leslie pushed me out onto the floor as the Wayne's shouted encouragements behind me. I sat down and started stretching, as a reporter came up.

"And I'm here now with Barbara Gordon, 16, who's had a pretty tough year. She's been faced with the death of her father as well as a crippling injury. A lot of us were placing bets on if she would make it out here. Tell me Barbara, how well do you think you can do?"

"Well," I began, switching to a more flattering stretch so that he wouldn't have to talk to my rear, "I don't want to blame any of my faults on my father or my injury. It's true I have a gunshot wound in the shoulder, which might affect my performance, but I don't want to use that as an excuse. I didn't get as much practice in as I should have, because like you said, I'm still not over the death of my father. But I'm only 16, so this is the first year I can compete anyway, so if I don't make it I still have a few more chances. I wasn't even sure if I was going to try out this year, but I decided to do it for my dad. No matter what happens, I'll have given it my best."

"You're up kiddo." Leslie called, placing the springboard on the mat and taking my water.

I really don't remember much after that. I know I hit the springboard good, and I got up on the bars easily. After that I blacked everything out and went into auto pilot. I worked best that way. I was fairly certain I was doing fine, until… I saw my father's empty seat. In that instant I both managed to do two empty swings and strike my foot on the lower bar, like Beth Tweddle did in 2008. That was at least 2.5 off my score.

"Come on Barbara!" Dick hollered in the audience, taking a seat in my father's empty chair. I quickly refocused my attention, concentrating on Dick. I launched into a turning handstand, completed the rest of my routine, and rushed into Leslie's arms to cry.

"It's okay, baby, its okay. You did everything else perfect. You might still be in this." Leslie soothed, and the Waynes all came rushing up, surrounding me in a big ol' screwed up family hug.

"We're really proud of you Barbara, no matter what happens. It took a lot of guts to get up there and do that." Bruce declared, and I faced him with tears in my eyes.

"You pick _now_ to act like a father?" I cried, incredulous, as the tears threatened to spill over."

"It's okay Barbara, your routine was actually really good. You might have a chance." Leslie reassured. "And if you don't, that just proves to me that with a little work you'll

d-n well will next year, you hear me?"

I didn't because just then they put my scores up on the board.

I got a 14.7. A 14.7.

Leslie's arms wrapped around me again, and I buried my face in her shoulder.

"What? What does that mean?" Dick asked, and I turned around to face him, definitely sobbing by now.

"Dick, the top girl has a 16.8." I cried, frantically brushing tears out of my eyes. New ones just filled in their place

"I didn't make it."


	10. Once upon a Balance Beam

**I don't think this is going to be exactly tantamount with the London Olympics. These tryouts, for instance, have already happened, and the actual event is on the 27th. I don't think I can have it all up on the actual day, but I'll try to get it close. Also, I'm doing my best not to mention real gymnasts, seeing as this is a fanfiction, but if I accidentally slip a name in, please don't hate me! I'm trying to make it as realistic as possible, but so it could play in with any Olympic year, not just this one. So it's modern no matter what, get it?**

**DrakesChick: Well, you never know… there are still two more events left. And I'm trying really hard to keep the gymnastics lingo down so it's not so dull, but its kinda difficult. It's really a visual sport after all. Of course good ol' Dick and Bruce will be cheering her on the whole way! They are her kinda-not-really-pretty-complicated-broken-little family, after all…**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Batman, or any of the characters. I also don't own the Olympics, or NBC, or really anything else mentioned in this chapter. All I own is my own gymnastics career that ended very early on in my life. And no, I'm defiantly not Olympic material. At all. **

"I'm not going out there." I declared, breathing heavily. "There's no way. Not after the last catastrophe."

"Barbara, you knew the bar was your worst event. But you still have two more qualifying events, and you still have a really good chance." Leslie sighed, and I forced myself to look at her.

"I failed utterly on the bars Lez. I got a 14.7 Do you really think I can bring myself up far enough?" I sat down on the mat and folded myself into the butterfly stretch.

"Look, Barb, if you get in the upper 16s on both of the next two events, you'll average out as a 16. You might not get the top spot on the team, but you ought to make it. Next up is the beam, and I know you can do it."

I tried to breath slower. Leslie was right. There were five spots on the team, and already there were multiple girls underneath me. Girls who fell off the bar completely, and the like. I was currently ranked 13th. Not good, but like Leslie said, I could bring it up by the end.

"Let's go through your routine now, Barbra. The beam is the next event. GO!"

I leapt into my routine, pretending I was on a high beam about 4 inches thick. I pushed off the ground and would have landed on the beam, if one had been there.

I'm Barbara Gordon. Teenager. Olympic gymnast. Batgirl.

Orphan.

Well, technically I wasn't an orphan. But it sure felt like it.

I was midway through my routine when another NBC reporter came in.

"Barbara, do you mind if we speak with you?" She asked, and I grinned, continuing my practice.

"Go ahead." I replied with a smile.

"Barbara, you didn't do as well as we'd betted on the uneven bar event. Do you think it's a precursor of the rest of the try-out?"

"Well, I sure hope not." I declared with a leap. "I lost my focus for just a second and it messed me up. Now that I've gone through one stage of the try-out, I know what to expect for the next two, so I won't be going in cold."

"What made you mess up in the last round?"

"Um," I paused. We were delving into more serious subjects here. "My father had his seat ticket before he, um, passed. I noticed his empty seat out of the courner of my eye, and lost my focus for a second. I'm more prepared this time, so hopefully I can power through it."

"Barbara is one the favorites for the team this year, and we were all shocked to see her off to such a rocky start. She's captured the hearts of the audience and judges alike with her charm, finesse, and feisty spirit. Good luck in this next round, Barbara."

"Thanks." I replied with a grin, as Leslie ushered me off to the mat.

"You can do it babe. You know I'm not just saying that. You got gold at the Junior Olympics; you can do the same here." She whispered as I took my place.

I waited for the signal, surveying the crowd. I found the Waynes with ease, as one of NBC's cameras panned towards them. Presumably some reporter was talking about my rough past and our broken little family. Bruce caught my eye and flashed a thumbs up, as Dick shouted something unintelligible.

My cue came. I took a running start, and popped up onto the beam with a McCool, the move named after Courtney McCool, and did an easy front walkover. Getting to the end of the beam, I turned with a split leap, and then held a needle scale, or a 180 degree split gripping the beam with both hands- one foot on the beam, one in the air. A cross handstand brought me to the other end of the beam, where I turned with a pivot turn. From that point, I moved into my flight series, which is two or more acrobatic exercises linked together. Acrobatics was, of course, my strong suit, being Batgirl and all, so I knew at least that much of my routine went splendidly. The only points that I had left to hit were my turns and my splits. I rose into a releve, wobbling slightly, and turned a full 360 degrees without falling. Pulling a scissors leap following a straight jump, I hit the last mandatory point. Leslie threw in a couple more flight series' afterward, to make sure I finished strong, and my smile was genuine as a performed a back dive, quarter twist in the air, and landed with a handstand, a move called the Omelianchik. All that was left was my dismount. A simple front flip with a lot of height and a sommi and a half later, I was on the ground with my hands in the air. I stuck the landing, which was more than I could say for most of my competetors. I held the pose until I saw Leslie barrelling towards me, the Waynes close behind.

"I knew you could do it Barb!" Leslie shrieked, hugging me with so much force I fell over backward and struck the beam with my back. A roar of laughter went around the stadium, but I didn't care. I was concentrated on the only four people in the world that mattered.

I followed them to the holding area where I'd get my score after the comercial break, while Dick talked a mile a minute.

"That was fantastic Babs! I mean, I've done some trapeze work of course and I'm pretty amazing, if I do say so myself, and I mean, I know I could do everything that you did just now, but on a 6 inch wide beam?"

"Four inches." I corrected. "And the trapeze and beam are two completely different things. Maybe you could compare on the rings, or the uneven bars-"

"Oh, yeah, I couldn't have done your beam preformance. But I could have done the uneven bars easy. Well, maybe. I mean, I never flipped around the trapeze like you do on the bars, but you do jump from one to another. And it's a lot higher. The beam could be like a tightrope, I suppose, but a lot fatter."

"The Olympics is nothing like a circus, little boy." An employee declared as they rushed by.

"Hey." I declared, turning. "You ever seen this boy's circus? The Flying Graysons were like the Olympics of circus'. And that 'little boy' you're talking to is my foster father's adopted ward. So in a completely complicated way, he's like my older brother that has absoulutly no relation to me at all, other than being adopted by the man who the government assigned as my guardian, so you have no right to talk to him that way, got it?"

"Yes Miss Gordon, sorry Miss Gordon!" The employee declared.

"Don't apologize to me, apologize to Dick." I suggested.

"Terribly sorry Mr. Grayson. I didn't mean any harm."

"I know you didn't." Dick replied, shooting me a look.

"I'm sorry if I blew your words out of proportion. I'm incredibly nervous." I added, and the worker grinned.

"Waiting on a score? Well, we'll be back on air in a minute, so just hang on. Good luck!"

"Thanks." I smiled, and he hurried off, back to his job. I heard him muttering under his breath "I just talked to Barbara Gordon!"

"Geeze. You're like Angelina Jolie or something to these people." Dick whistled.

"Or something.' I agreed, sitting next to Leslie on the bench. "It's just because I did really good at the Junior Olympics. They expect me to be the next Nastia Liukin or something. Especially since we both have shoulder injuries…"

"We're on air!" someone yelled, and the Waynes backed their way out of the booth. Leslie grabbed my hand, and we watched the scoreboard intently.

A 16.8.

I let out a shriek and stood up, hugging Leslie. That put me at the top of the scoreboard for this event.

"That's a 15.75 overall so far." Leslie whispered in my ear. "That pulls you up to 7th place. You have a really good chance. One more event left, and you could top the chart."

"I'm so proud of you, Barb!" Bruce declared, pulling me into a hug. "What the heck does that mean?" He added in my ear. I laughed, and explained how much better my chances were now.

"That was a very impressive routine, Miss Barbara." Alfred praised, and I hugged him tight.

"Congrats Babs." Dick added. "Your dad would be proud."

I smiled to myself, looking around the packed stadium. Yes, yes he would.


	11. Once Upon a Vault

**Oh man, you guys, it's been forever! I'm really sorry about that. Like I said, no computers at summer camp, so I got as much up as I could before I had to go slave away for the cutest little seven year olds ever, and then I went off to University. That's right guys, I'm not even in the same city any more- heck, I'm not even in the same district, or county thingie. Whatever you want to say. I'm all alooooooooone in the middle of nowhere! And yeah, the work's crazy! Keeps me on my toes and away from you guys. But I'm back! For now…**

**DrakesChick: Guess what? You're my only reviewer for this chapter! Don't you feel special? So I hope you like this phase of the try outs as much as the others, and I'm glad you liked Barbara's reaction. Somehow I just play her and Dick off each other really easy- it feels like they've been friends forever instead of mutual acquaintances for a few months… **

**Disclaimer: Um… All rights reserved, yadda yadda yadda, don't own anything except the plot… NBC has coverage of the Olympics… I can't think of anything else. But don't sue me!**

"Aren't you nervous?" Dick asked, watching me warily. I bounced up and down a little, stretching.

"No, not really." I shrugged, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Before lunch, the last time I got to see you, you were practically hyperventilating. Now you're just fine?"

I laughed. Poor confused little boy.

"Grayson, look. My next competition is the vault, alright? Easy peasy. I was hoping vault would go before floor."

"Why? What's the difference?"

I took a swig from my water bottle as I mulled it over. "Ok, well my score is currently pretty good. Not great, but definitely some serious competition."

"But you and Leslie seemed so worried about it-" I stopped him there. Poor kid just didn't get it.

"Look, I don't want to have to go through all four stages of the try out. That's what we were concerned about. We were hoping I could get my score up high enough that I qualify for automatic admission on the team, without having to do floor. You know how screwed up my shoulder is right now, and how much trouble I've been having getting out some of those moves."

That he did. I knew for a fact that Grayson had snuck in on me a few times during practice, and had the privilege of seeing me fall, again and again, because I couldn't support my weight on my bum shoulder.

"So you're really not concerned at all?" He asked and I bit my lip.

"Ok, dropping the façade? I'm terrified. This is it, Grayson. This is my shot at being what dad has pushed me to be my whole life. If I don't bust out a solid 16 out there this time, there's no guarantee that I'll make it on the team, and then what? All those years I spent not seeing my dad? Are they just thrown away? I think I'd give up my spot on the team any day just to get those years with him back. But I can't. So this is my shot to make those years matter. To make this happen. For him. And I'm so scared that I'll screw it up, that my shoulder will give out, that I'll fall on my face, and it'll be all for nothing. Nothing."

"It won't be for nothing, Barb." Bruce declared, as he walked into the training room, Alfred following. "Your father was very proud of the woman you've become. He didn't spend his life shaping you into an Olympic gymnast; he spent it shaping you into the moral, upright girl that you are. No matter what happens out there, he'd be proud you gave it your all. And so am I."

And so, of course, like the baby that I am, I burst out bawling on his shoulder. He patted the top of my head awkwardly as Lez let out a squeal.

"Babsey? Barbara, babe, you're going to ruin your makeup! Come'ere…" She pulled me back from Bruce, and I waved my hand at my face, blinking rapidly and trying to stave off tears. Leslie and I together had worked two hours that morning on getting the glitter around my eyes just right, and I couldn't go ruining it now! As a gymnast, I often ended up with some crazy facial makeup- worse sometimes than theatre makeup- and the hardest part was keeping it on all day.

"I'm going to go check your lineup, and see if they've put out any fresh chalk recently. Barb, re-apply your lipstick, and then get ready. You can do this, babe, I know you can. A solid 16, that's all you need."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and hugged Leslie tight.

"Thank you Lez. For everything. I know I was a bit of a brat when I was younger, but I really appreciate all the hard work you've put into getting me to where I am today. I couldn't do this without you."

"Oh shut up!" Leslie cried with a laugh, shoving me away. "Now you're going to make me cry! Just get out there and rock their world."

"Yes ma'am!" I laughed, as I turned to the mirror to fix up my makeup. Leslie had me wear a leotard with gold and orange hues in order to bring out my hair better, and so most of my facial makeup followed the same scheme. I fixed up the gold glitter around my eyes, and lightly dusted powder on to hold it through the sweat. "You guys are gonna want to get out of here soon, or else they'll come in and kick you out. Go take your seats."

"Good luck Miss Barbara." Alfred declared sincerely, and I pulled him too me. For a stiff formal butler, Alfred sure was a good hugger.

"Thanks Al." I grinned, trying not to show my nerves

"You've got this, Gordon." Dick added, holding up his hand for our secret handshake. It was fairly childish, but somewhere along the lines we'd picked up this crazy complicated secret handshake that we used at every opportunity, just to show off how totally cool we were.

"For sure." I replied with a grin, and turned to Bruce. He held his hand out for a handshake, and I rolled my eyes. "As if, Bruce." I declared, and pulled him into a hug. "Now scat, before I get in trouble!"

"Go kick butt Babs!" Dick called as they ran out the door.

I wasn't super worried about the vault. I was great at it, since I practiced my vaults all the time out on the streets as Batgirl.

God, I missed being Batgirl. Maybe I'd have to take it back up after the Olympics. I was still a little shaky on that. I had my good days, and I had my bad days, but Batman had to be understanding, right? He'd let me off on those days that I just wanted to scream and lose control, when I couldn't concentrate on keeping myself together, much less taking down Gotham's lowlifes.

I wonder if Batman and Robin think I'm dead.

No time to worry about that, Babs. You've got a try out to compete in.

I bounced on my toes, pushing myself into a quick front flip.

And I fell.

Oh, God.

How was I supposed to do this if I couldn't even do a front flip without falling? I pressed my cold water bottle against my aching shoulder, gritting my teeth through the pain. My free hand flopped around as I searched for my phone, shooting off a quick text to Dick.

**I can't do this.**

**Barbara, you'll do great. We all believe in you.** Was his immediate reply.

**I fell.**

**#$!&, are you alright?**

**Idk. We'll find out.**

A person wearing a headset poked their head into the training room.

"Barbara Gordon, you're up. Hey! Hey, are you ok?" He rushed to my side and helped me stand up.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just fell."

"You need to get that looked at. I know you came in here with a history of injury, Barbara. I'm afraid I can't let you compete." He was about to speak into his headset when I grabbed his arm.

"No, please. I'm fine, I promise. You can't pull me from the try outs, it means everything to me. Please, I'm doing this for my dad. You've got to give me a chance. Can't you just pretend you came in a minute later?" I begged, tears welling up in my eyes. I didn't come this far just to be kicked out before my (hopefully) last try out.

He looked at me hesitantly, and the lowered his headset.

"For your dad." He whispered. "I'll tell you what. I'll hold off the judges as long as I can. Get to the medical wing and get treated."

"Thank you. Thank you so much. I swear, I'm ok, I just need a brace. You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you!" I cried, throwing my phone with the rest of my things that I couldn't take into the gym. He eyed me warily.

"You don't look that bad. You swear you just fell? Nothing major?"

"Nothing major. Promise." I nodded, scurrying off to the medical bay before he could stop me. "Thank you so much!"

Not even five minutes later I was seated in the medical bay with a black brace wrapped around my shoulder and upper chest, tucking under my leotard.

"Are you sure you're ok?" The EMT on duty asked me for the fourth time that minute.

"Positive." I replied, rolling my shoulder. It was true- after the initial shock of falling I was right as rain. It was only that staff that blew it out of proportion. But I couldn't fault them for looking out for me.

"Alright, well I haven't found any lasting damage from your fall, so I'm clearing you to perform. Good luck Barbara."

"Thanks." I replied, hopping up from the chair and heading out the door.

Showtime.

I entered the gym to be hit by a wall of sound. You never really get used to how echo-y it gets in the gym. It becomes like a second home, but it still shocks you every time. I immediately sought out the Waynes, and found them all waving concernedly at me. I flashed them a thumbs up and headed out to the edge of the mat.

"How are you holding up ,babe?" Leslie asked, rushing me. I grinned at her and handed her my water bottle.

"Fine. It was no big. The staff just got a little over-excited and I got a little over emotional, that's all. The worst that could happen is that I bruise."

"The boy told me about your text. You scared all of us Barb." Leslie declared, unzipping my windbreaker and pulling it off me.

"I'm sorry. I was scared for a minute. But I'm fine now." I replied, pulling off my warm-up pants, exposing my leotard.

"You bet you are." Leslie shot back with a quick hug. "Rock it, Babs."

An announcement came over the P.A. system about how Barbara Gordon had irritated an old injury, but was now cleared for try-outs, and they would proceed momentarily. I moved out to the mat and chalked the bottom of my feet.

The thing about the vault is that is only takes a few seconds. There's a huge lead up to it, and then BAM! It's over in seconds. Kind of anticlimactic.

I took a deep breath, and waited for my signal…

Go.

I took off at a sprint, hitting over into a double round-off, landing on the vault table with a back-handspring, pushing off from my shoulders into a pike position, pulling my arms across my chest to start my twist. Thankfully I managed to get enough height to squeeze in one… two… three rotations, before 'kicking out' by letting my arms free straight to my side, landing flat on my feet, keeping my chest high. and thrusting my hands into the air. I bounced once, but not badly, and kept my footing as I lowered my arms, turned to the judges, and posed again.

Leslie met me as I left the mat, smothering me in hugs and draping my jacket back over my shoulder as I made my way over to the holding area.

"You did great!" She declared, her hands fluttering all around me, like she didn't know what to do with herself.

"Thanks, Lez. I'm ok. I'm ok."

"Better then ok- you were amazing!" Leslie cried. "I haven't seen you get that kind of height since before your injury!"

"When are they going to let the Wayne's down here?" I asked, worried. I'd come to depend on them a lot more than I had expected, and was anxious about receiving my score before they got down to my side.

"Soon. But you know that they aren't allowed on the floor in the actual Olympics. You're going to have to do it without them for the actual event."

"If I make it. I'll have you though, right? If I make it?"

"I'll be by your side the whole time."

"We're back in two minutes." Someone called, and I grinned.

"Live across the world." I declared, sighing in relief as I spotted Bruce, Al, and Dick, making their way towards us. They looked just about as shocked as I felt. This was it.

Dick's heart sped up as he read the two words in front of him.

**I fell. **

Was she ok? What did she do? He sighed in relief as he got her text saying she was ok. But was she really? He knew Barbara tried to pretend she was tougher than steel, and that this was her dream. She'd say that she was ok if you cut off both of her arms, and then she'd still go on to do that vault. So when she walked out and flashed them a thumbs up, when the announcer let the audience know she'd been cleared to go on, the three Waynes let out a collective breath. She was really ok.

She was more than ok. Dick winced as she put her full weight on her shoulder, but she powered through it sending herself forward without a stumble.

His jaw dropped as he turned to Bruce. They both noticed out of the corner of their eyes that the judges face matched theirs, but for completely different reasons.

"That was a near perfect vault." The judge had whispered to his partner

"That was the same move that Batgirl used to take down the Riddler a year ago." Dick whispered to Bruce.

"And come to think of it, haven't we seen Batgirl use a lot of Barbara's moves before?" Bruce added. Dick thought back to all the practices he'd sat in on, all of her flight series' and vaults, her lunges and bar routines. Hadn't Batgirl flipped around streetlights the same way Barbara flipped around the uneven bars?

"Bruce, I bet Batgirl is a gymnast just like Barbara! We'd better ask her who all she trained with growing up. I bet they were trained under the same schedule for their moves to be so similar!"

I squeezed Leslie's hand hard, but I doubt she even noticed, judging by how hard she was squeezing mine. I kept one eye on the scoreboard, and the other on the Wayne's, waiting just outside the holding area. The announcer were jabbering on about something, presumably my performance, but I wasn't really listening. Letting go of Leslie's hand, I clasped both hands together and paced at the edge of the gym, waiting, just waiting for my scores to be posted.

I got a 16.2. The best I could get with my vault was a 16.4. And I got a 16.2.

Oh. My. Batman.

I breathed a sigh of relief and turned to Leslie, letting her wrap her arms around me. I could feel the Waynes' eyes boring into my back, begging me to explain it to them, but the roar going up around the gymnasium was all the explanation they needed.

I let out a scream and high-fived Grayson, who immediately broke into our secret handshake.

"Boo-ya!" He hollered, and I echoed him with a grin, pulling Alfred and Bruce into a three way hug, dancing around in a circle. I then stopped, kissed the fingers on my right hand, and raised them up to the ceiling.

"For you, Dad." I called.

"Aaaaand… that's a 16.2! A 16.2! Barbara Gordon is officially the first girl to place on the women's Olympic team!"


	12. Once Upon an Interview

Them Weekly was going to be at the Wayne house in less than an hour to interview me, and guess who were sitting on the sofa doing nothing?

That's right, the dynamic duo. Thing one and Thing two. Lie father, like son.

"Hey, Babs, want to play a game of chess?" Dick called as I walked up the stairs from the basement, towelling off my wet hair. I shook my head, accidentally spraying water all over him.

"Sorry, Grayson, I have less than an hour to make myself look like I haven't been working in the gym sense sunup." I replied, sniffing my armpit. "Golly, even with two showers I smell like crap and day old sweat."

"Good to know." Dick crinkled his nose. "Come find me when you're in a less disgusting mood."

"I believe Alfred set out an outfit for you Barbara. Not that Them is going to be looking too closely at what you wear." Bruce advised, and I nodded, grateful, before disappearing up two flights of stairs to my room.

I surveyed the outfit that Al had put out for me, admitting with a sigh that Alfred had more fashion sense than I did. Whereas I'd just been dressing in a black tee-shirt and jeans, he'd set out a cute black jumper, one of those weird but cute slouchy hat things, my jeans, and a pair of boots. I was beyond impressed.

I changed quickly, surveying myself in the mirror. Once my hair dried, I'd look acceptable enough for Them, but I still smelled awful. I searched for my deodorant as Alfred knocked on the door.

"If I may?" He asked, coming in. "I believe this is my area of expertise."

"Hair and makeup?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"High class events." Alfred replied with a wry smile. "I do work for the Wayne's, you know." I collapsed on my bed, sighing in relief.

"Oh, Al, you're a lifesaver. I have no idea how to act like some rich kid for Them. I'm pretty sure they won't be impressed with little ol' thrift shop me."

"I am sure they will adore you, Miss Barbara. You're quite a charismatic figure." Alfred replied, picking up my hairbrush.

"Thanks Alfie." I nodded solemnly, allowing him to make me up into a high class lady. He surveyed me and nodded, pulling my hair back from my face with a headband, and sent me back downstairs.

"Hey, Grayson, how's about that chess match?" I called, and Dick looked up with a grin, setting up the board. I lay down on the floor on my stomach and helped get all the pieces together. "I call white!"

"No way, white moves first!" Dick protested, and I rolled my eyes.

"Duh. That's why I called it." I snorted, moving a pawn forward. He surveyed the board with a frown before making his move.

What followed was one of the most intense chess matches I have ever played. Thanks to my photographic memory, I am a freakishly good chess player- Dad played me once and beat me, and after that I spent weeks looking up and memorizing different strategies. I haven't lost a game since.

But Grayson? He was good. Constantly thinking at least 7 moves ahead, I estimated. If my memory wasn't so brilliant, he might have easily trounced me.

"Check." Grayson declared, and I quickly moved out of it as someone knocked on the door.

"That'll be Them. Your move Grayson." I declared, and Dick bit his lip, visualizing every opening. He slid his rook over and I grinned, moving my knight to capture his King. "Check and Mate. Sorry Grayson, there's no where you can go." Dick nodded, surveying the board and found that there was, indeed, no way he could move out of check. He conceded, and I laughed.

"Perfect! This is the perfect shot!" A voice called, and I looked up, right into the smiling face of Francisco Jones, photographer of Them Weekly. "The children playing chess on the floor, the father reading the paper on the sofa, its perfect!"

"Don't forget Alfred." Dick declared. "He's as much of this family as we are."

"And we kind of just finished the game." I added apologetically.

"We can go for a rematch." Dick suggested, resetting the board. "I don't lose at chess. Ever."

"You were one heck of an opponent." I agreed. "I almost didn't win."

"That would be good." Francisco nodded, setting up his camera. "You will all do what you are doing, and I will take the pictures. Don't mind me."

And so Dick and I had our rematch. That I won.

"Dude!" He cried, staring at me in shock. "How did that even happen? I'm- There's only one person besides you who's ever beat me at chess, and that's Bruce. He's the one who taught me."

"Barbara is an incredibly good player." Bruce stated curiously, folding up the paper and peering at the board. "She had you about eight moves back."

"But I always think-"

"Seven moves ahead." I completed. "I figured that out our last match. So I, naturally, had to think eight moves ahead."

"Well then, Holmes." Grayson frowned, packing up the board as Betsy Grant, the reporter for Them Weekly entered the room. "I guess we'd better head out."

"Oh, no, stay!" Betsy cried. "I love the family dynamic. I'm Betsy Grant."

"Barbara Gordon."

"Dick Grayson."

"Bruce Wayne."

"And that's Alfred Pennyworth." Dick added, and Alfred nodded politely.

"Of course I knew all that." Betsy laughed, taking a seat in a chair across from me. I stood up to sit in a chair, but she interrupted me. "Oh, no need to move. This is a very informal interview, so if you're more comfortable on the floor that's just fine." I shrugged and sat back down, resting my back against the sofa. "Shall we get started then?"

"Sure." I nodded.

"Barbara, this is your first time going to the Olympics, correct?" She waited for me to nod. "And how are you feeling about that?"

"Well, it's a little overwhelming." I declared. "Just a few weeks ago I was Barbara Gordon, ordinary teen, and now I'm going to the Olympics? It's pretty exciting. But it's kind of bittersweet too. I just wish my dad could be here, and I feel kind of bad for the girls who didn't get to go. Everyone at the qualifiers was amazing."

"Barbara, let me be the first to tell you I'm so sorry for your loss." Betsy stated, shaking her head sadly. I smiled thankfully, but couldn't help thinking that she wasn't the first to tell me that. Not by a long shot. "Do you think the loss of your father will hurt you in the Olympics?"

"Well, it definitely tripped me up in the first event." I answered, my voice becoming choked up. Grayson slid an arm around my shoulders and hugged me loosely, and I glanced up at him. He grinned, and I nodded, ploughing on. "I really wish he could be here, but I'd like to imagine him watching me from wherever he is. I hope I'll make him proud."

"I'm sure you will." Betsy nodded. "You've sustained some injuries that made the try-outs rather difficult for you, haven't you? Why don't you tell me about that?"

"Well, uh, as I'm sure you know, an attempt on my life was made at my father's funeral. I ended up getting shot in the shoulder and dislocating my kneecap. I've obviously gotten well enough that I can compete again, but I don't have the same arm strength that I used to, and that made holding onto the bar fairly difficult. I'm definitely going to have to work on building up my muscle strength before I compete."

"Do you think you have a shot at a gold medal?"

"I really don't know as of yet. I don't want to sound like I'm bragging, but I'm really good at the vault. If I medal anywhere, that'd be it. And of course it's my dream to go to the Olympics and medal in everything, maybe even get gold in the All Around, but the team comes first. I'm part of Team USA before I'm Team Barbara, so I'm going to give my all for my country and see what happens in individual. No matter what I'm so excited for this opportunity to represent my country and to help out my team."

"Great answer." Betsy laughed, scribbling on her notepad. "All of America is really excited to get to see your floor routine. Did you ever think you would get an automatic entry without even having to do floor?"

"It pretty much came down to the order of the events. If floor was before vault, I probably would have had to complete all events, but since vault came first… I was lucky. Luck really plays a huge role in who gets to go and who doesn't. You can be the best gymnast in the world and have one off day, or you can be a lucky duck like me who the universe just smiled on that day."

"I don't think it all came down to luck." Betsy shook her head. "That vault was astounding! The height you managed, the way your rotations were all under control, and you stuck the landing."

"Well, I miss-stepped a little." I shrugged.

"Modest to the end." Betsy laughed, as Dick rolled his eyes.

"She has trouble accepting complements." He piped up. "Always thinks she needs to be even better."

"Ah, Richard, how do you feel about Barbara going to the Olympics?"

"Oh, we're all really excited for her. Babs is one of us now, and we're all here for her no matter what." Dick shrugged, and I pulled a face at him, mouthing the words 'suck up'. He laughed at me, turning back to Betsy. "I'm just really happy for her. I haven't seen her smiling and laughing this much since… well, since before she moved in with us."

"Let's talk about your relationship for a moment, shall we?" Betsy asked. "Are you two legally siblings?" Bruce looked up at her from his spot on the sofa, wondering what this had to do with Barbara's Olympic career.

"Um… It's a complicated relationship." I frowned, trying to remember all the legal terminology. "Bruce is my legal guardian. He's my foster father, so I don't think we're legally related. The government appointed him as my keeper, I guess. I'm not exactly sure."

"But I'm Bruce's ward." Dick added. "It's kind of different. I don't think Babs and I are related."

"I don't think our legal relations need to be discussed." Bruce cut in smoothly. "Shouldn't this interview be about Barbara?"

"Isn't her family important?" Betsy returned. "Is it awkward, Barbara, living in the same house as three unrelated people?"

"Not at all." I shook my head. "The Waynes have been really great about making me feel at home here. I kind of knew Grayson from before, since whenever my father and Bruce were talking I'd end up stuck with him." Dick feigned hurt, and I elbowed him in the side. "But they've been really understanding about it all. I couldn't have gotten back on my feet without them."

"Hey, we orphans have to stick together." Dick shrugged, glancing at me.

"Well, I think that's about all the time we have." Betsy nodded, standing up. I stood up with her and shook her hand, and Francisco got a few more shots. "I wish you the best of luck, Barbara. And Congratulations!"

"Thanks! Hey, Grayson, I'm going to get back to training. Want to join me?" I asked, remembering his days at the circus. I figured I could do with some company.

"Course, Gordon." He nodded. "I'll take any chance I can get to show you up."

"Oh, come on. Olympic athlete here? You think you can beat this?" I snorted. "Let's go Grayson. It was nice meeting you Ms Grant!"

"You are so on." Dick snorted, rolling his eyes. We made our way down to the gym after seeing the Them staff off, getting changed in the locker rooms. Because of course the Waynes had locker rooms in their basement. Who doesn't need a locker room in their basement?

I met Dick out in the gym, the one I'd begun to think of as my own. I nodded at him and walked over to the bars, popping up onto the lower one.

"You'd get more momentum if you ran." Dick commented, climbing the ladder to a trapeze.

"We're not allowed to." I shook my head, concentrating on swinging around the bar. I popped up from the lower bar to the upper bar, but the weight of my body was too much and my shoulder gave out. I fell to the matt with a THWUMP, sitting up with a pout.

"You're gunning it." Dick shrugged. "If you have more momentum it's easier to support your body weight." He took a leap off the platform, catching the trapeze bar, and I sat on the matt, watching him.

"All true, but how do I get that momentum?" I asked with a frown. "I don't get to cover the same huge area that you do."

"Fair enough." Dick agreed, switching from one bar to the next, throwing a double sommi. "Could you do your routine before the accident?"

"Mostly." I shrugged. "Bar's never really been my strong suit. Too much upper body strength. I could at least support my weight though. Nice double, by the way, but you totally had room for a double sommi and a half."

"I had room, but I wouldn't have ended in the right position to grab the bar. Physics." Grayson replied, and I rolled my eyes.

"Good ol' physics, controlling our lives." I snorted, standing up and popping back onto the bar. I swung my body around it a couple times, pointing my toes and trying to keep my legs in close to my body so I wouldn't strike the other bar. When the time felt right, I jumped up to the upper bar, catching it and holding on this time, though I winced when I swung back, my full bodyweight on my arms. I tried to pull up my body so the bar rested on my stomach, but I fell back to the matt again.

"Gravity's a killer, isn't it?" Grayson nodded, watching me. "Is there a way you could go completely over that first swing, so you don't get yanked back down to Earth so hard?"

"Maybe if I build up my momentum." I replied, frustrated. "But how?"

"Can you go any faster on the first bar? If you had a higher velocity when you made the jump, you might be able to go completely over."

"Maybe…" I frowned, surveying the bars. Dick's eyes lit up as he had an idea.

"Train with me, Babs." He declared, and I raised an eyebrow.

"What? Aren't I doing that already?"

"On the trap." He explained. "It might help you."

"Um… I don't see how trapeze would help me." I stated carefully, trying not to hurt his feelings. " You're good, don't get me wrong, but it's not exactly the same thing."

"Not the same thing?" Dick asked, letting go of the bar. I winced as he fell, but he just landed in the net and bounced back up. "Well, that's true. It's not exactly the same. But I bet trapeze training would help you. Watch."

And so I stood back and watched as Dick mounted the bars and performed my routine perfectly, to a T. The little stinker.

"You suck." I frowned, and he grinned.

"I think it's high time you became an aerialist, Babs. Get up on that ladder."

I climbed the ladder to the top nervously, staring down to the empty net down below. Ok, don't get me wrong- I'm not afraid of heights. At all. I was Batgirl for Pete's sake, swinging high above the city without a safety net! But I never let go of the jump line. I wasn't ever afraid of falling.

"Nervous?" Grayson asked from his platform opposite me. "Don't worry, the safety net will catch you if you fall. I learned that lesson the hard way."

"Oh, Dick, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to remind you. Look, we can do this another time."

"You're not getting out of it that easily, Barbie doll." He laughed, and I frowned.

"Don't call me that." I snapped.

"Fine, Babs. But I'm not going to let you fall. Get on the trapeze."

I took a deep breath and launched myself off the platform onto the trapeze, and Dick nodded, pleased.

"Now go with the momentum. Don't let it jerk you around, that's it. Now start building velocity. I'll let you know when to go. Throw down as many tricks as hard as you want. The air can't hurt you."

"But the ground sure can." I replied with a snort, moving the same way he instructed. "I would be switching right about now on bar."

"But you're not on bar." Dick reminded. "Give it just a little more. Get the feel of a higher velocity. We have to be in sync too. I'll correct for that." He waited a few moments until we were moving towards each other at the same time. "What are you going to throw down? How much time do you need?"

"A double pike. Head over heels." I explained, figuring it was the easiest thing I could bust out in that space.

"Make it a triple. You've got more room than you're used to. Keep your arms over your head and just go, on my count. I'll catch you."

"Got it." I nodded, biting my lip. It'd been a long time since I was up in the air this high.

"Remember to go with the momentum, Babs, that's what this is all about. It's a bit easier learning with a human than a bar, I think, because a person has a little bit more give. You ready?"

"Uh-huh."

"Aaaaaaand….. Go!" He cried, and I launched myself off the bar, pulling into a triple pike with my arms vertical above my head. Just as I was sure I was about to face-plant into the ladder he had climbed up, I felt his hands close around my wrists, and he laughed with ecstasy.

"Go with it Babs, go with it!" He called, and so I followed his advice, not trying to control my momentum, and I swung back into place easily like a pendulum. "See? I think you might be able to incorporate that into your routine. If it doesn't hurt you to get back into place you might last longer."

"Yeah, that felt really natural." I nodded. "I'm not sure if I have to room to though. Bar is all about tight, controlled motions."

"Well, then, let's find out!" Dick cried happily, and his grip on my wrists loosened.

"Richard Elizabeth Grayson you are not dropping me!" I shrieked, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Elizabeth?"

"Well I don't know your middle name!"

"It's not Elizabeth, I can promise you that." He laughed, and then grinned. "Relax Babs. Would you feel more comfortable if I fell with you?"

"No." I replied adamantly, and he chuckled.

"Well, too bad. My grip is slipping. Oops!" He cried as he unhooked his knees from around the bar, and I shrieked loudly as we dropped quickly. He managed to turn so he would hit the net first, never letting go of me, and I shrieked again as we crashed into the net and bounced back up again. I waited until we stopped bouncing to crawl out of the net and stick my tongue out at him.

"I hate you." I frowned, and he laughed.

"Love you too." He grinned, and I raised an eyebrow. Did he really just…?

"Whatever. I'm getting back on the bar."

I'm very pleased to say that I managed the jump between bars that time without falling. I don't know if it was sheer desperation like the try-outs or what, but I managed to secure my grip on the bars and the kickback didn't hurt near as much. I squealed, pleased, and proceeded to finish my entire routine, even throwing in some of the harder jumps that I was afraid to try earlier. I caught sight of Dick's face- a mix between admiration and contemplation, and I dismounted with a double sommi and a half tuck, throwing up my arms, and turned to him.

"Something wrong?"

"No, you just really remind me of someone." He declared, biting his lip.

"Oh? Who?"

"You wouldn't know her." He shook his head.

"Oh, well in that case I'm going to head on upstairs. I've been training for…" I stopped, glancing at the clock. "Eight hours."

"You've been here since five?" He asked, astounded, and I nodded.

"I don't get this good naturally. It takes practice." I shrugged, heading out of the gym. "Thanks for the help, b- Grayson." I bit my tongue as soon as I left the gym. Stupid, Barbara, stupid! Being up there on that trapeze had reminded me so much of being Batgirl that I almost called him Boy Blunder. Even if I wasn't currently on the streets, I couldn't make that mistake! It would keep me from ever leaving again.

I needed to be more careful.

* * *

Babs had been in her room for a few hours now, and Dick was getting worried that she was really mad at him. So maybe he shouldn't have dropped her, but he thought she could take a joke! Honestly! He sighed, marching down the hall, and knocked on her door.

"Babs! Barbara! Dinner's in ten, you're going to be late. Come on, Barbara, I'm sorry! Talk to me, will you?"

She didn't answer.

That's when Dick started getting worried. Barbara wasn't the type to hold a grudge. Even when he'd almost drowned her, she'd forgiven him by the next day. Something was wrong.

He pushed the door to her room open, revealing that it was empty.

"Hey, Babs? You in here?" He asked, spying a note on her bed. His hand shook as he picked it up and read it.

_My dear friends,_

_You guys have been such a big Help these past few months. Please don't be mad at Me. I just miss my dad so much, and I want to leave, just like he did. I'm not vying for Attention or anything. This isn't some Fake Suicide Note like some people write, just to get their friends to love them or something. By the Time you five find this, we'll be gone. Together in heaven at last._

_Please, don't think this was your fault. There was just no way to Save Me from myself._

_Dick, do you remember what I told you my first day in the gym, when you showed me the pool? Please, remember me fondly._

_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._

_Barbie _

She was so happy earlier on.

She was a fighter.

Babs would never give in like this.

"Bruce!" Dick yelled, turning and running downstairs. "Bruce, come quick!" He found a mildly startled Bruce sitting at the dining table and shoved the note in his face. "Barbara's gone. She left this."

Bruce scanned over the note once, and then again with grim determination. In the blink of an eye he slipped from Bruce Wayne to Batman.

"That clever girl." Bruce declared, looking up at Dick. "It's not a suicide note, it's a code. She's been kidnapped."


End file.
